


Settling Down

by Alexannah



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s02e08 The Impossible Planet, F/M, Humour, Romance, fluff with some plot, lost tardis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 23,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexannah/pseuds/Alexannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'd have to settle down. In a house or something, a proper house with, with doors and things. Carpets! Me, living in a house! Now that, that is terrifying." </p><p>The Doctor and Rose have lost the TARDIS. Stranded in the 42nd century, it's time to start thinking domestic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Immigration and Customs

**Author's Note:**

> A series of drabbles, loosely based on the beginning of Impossible Planet.

If the shuttle ride had been long, the queue they were now in was longer. Rose, whose legs had already been wobbly when they began, was close to falling asleep on the Doctor’s shoulder. He had been fiddling with his sonic screwdriver when they began, but had had to abandon that distraction after a while in favour of keeping Rose upright.

She peeled her eyes open and glanced back up at the clock. It was a different time system to Earth, and she couldn’t make head or tail of it.

“Doctor.”

“Yes?”

“How long have we been here?”

“Er ...” The Doctor looked up at the clock as well, and frowned. “I’m not sure.”

“Don’t tell me you can’t read it.”

“I can! I just have to work it out, give me a moment. Erm ... about ... you’re not going to like the answer.”

“Just tell me.”

“Ten hours. Give or take ... a couple of. Um. Hours.”

“You are joking.”

“No. But we’re almost there, Rose, I can see the end of the queue,” the Doctor said in a forced cheerful tone.

With a great effort, Rose lifted her head. A large sign welcoming visitors to Em Yle spread above a door, which a family at the front of the queue were being ushered through. “Thank goodness.”

“Sorry.” The Doctor looked back down at her. “We shouldn’t have come to such a popular planet. I just thought you’d like it. It’s a bit different to Earth, but not too different, there’s cities and countryside and in-between areas, the weather’s not bad and the customs are similar. And the human population’s about ten percent.”

“What’s the other ninety percent?”

“Mainly Ylies. But there’s about five per cent Llosphanarians, and about fifteen per cent Gusk, and about one per cent miscellaneous.” He sighed. “Which I guess is the category I fall into.”

Rose felt for his hand, and he squeezed it. “Won’t be long now.”

Silence fell between them until they reached the front of the queue, and were finally brought through the doors. Disappointment plummeted through them as the other side turned out to be a waiting-room.

“I don’t believe this,” Rose muttered.

There were two chairs available, the rest were filled with the twenty or so people who had been ahead of them in the queue.

“At least there’s chairs here,” the Doctor said. “Why don’t you have a snooze, I’ll wake you when it’s our turn.”

A soft snore right next to his ear told him she had already taken his advice.


	2. Getting Started

“Names?” The person on the desk asked. Female, probably. She was roughly humanoid in shape, her skin a mottled fuchsia and a very pointed chin.

“The Doctor, and Rose Tyler.”

She scribbled at the top of two forms. “Human?”

“Rose is.”

“But you are ...”

“Gallifreyan.”

She hesitated. “How do you spell that?”

The Doctor suppressed a sigh. “G-A-L-L-I-F-R-E-Y-A-N.”

 “Occupations.”

“Doctor. And, er ...”

The questions went on. Finally, she stood, but hopes were dashed as she said, “Why don’t you two take a seat, I need to check a couple of things.”

Rose was sound asleep, curled up on the chair with her head resting on the Doctor’s knee, when the worker returned. “Doctor?”

“One moment.” He gently eased Rose off him and stood up. “Something wrong?”

“No, I was only double-checking some details.”

“So we’re done?”

“Almost. I need you both to sign and imprint.”

He nodded. “All right. Where?”

He signed his form and pressed a thumb on the marked box, capturing an image of his thumbprint, before waking Rose for her to do the same. The forms were stamped, duplicated and finally Rose and the Doctor were presented with papers proving their legal entrance to the planet.

“Thank you,” the Doctor said, pocketing them carefully. “Now where do we go?”

-

“So, come on then,” Rose said, stifling a yawn as they finally stepped out into the air. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“Um, Rose, we’ve got no money.”

“You’ve got the sonic, I thought you could get unlimited credit sticks with it?”

“This lot haven’t gone over to the credit system yet,” the Doctor admitted. “And the current currency is a bit harder to get hold of.”

“So ... basically, we’re broke. You brought us to a planet where we’re broke.”

“Relax, they’ll join the credit system in a couple of years.”

“Years? How exactly are we supposed to feed ourselves and keep a roof over our head in the meantime?”

“Don’t worry! I’ll ... think of something!” The Doctor began digging around in his pockets. “I must have something useful in here ...”

-

“Maybe you should get a job as an auctioneer,” Rose suggested as the Doctor thumbed through the notes, counting them. “Or a salesperson.”

“I’m trying very hard not to be insulted here, Rose.”

“You’re telling me it was really worth two thousand, seven hundred and fifty staples? Which is—how much in pounds?”

“Pounds in your time, just over a thousand.” The Doctor pocketed the money carefully. “Anyway, this lot haven’t seen a yoyo before ...”


	3. Flat Hunting

“So,” the Doctor said. “Think you could stay awake long enough to find a new home?”

Rose groaned and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “I just want to sleep, I don’t care about tomorrow.”

“Well, you’ll care when we’re left on the streets tomorrow if we squander all the money on a hotel tonight,” the Doctor said. “Look, we’ll take the first place that we can afford, okay?”

“Okay,” Rose mumbled.

They only had a couple of hours until the end of the working day. After asking around, they were finally pointed in the direction of an agency.

The first place was small, similar to a cheap studio flat on Earth, and looked in decent condition, but there was one problem.

The Doctor turned to the agent. “There’s only one bed?”

Rose, who didn’t care in the slightest, just moaned with longing to lay down on it. The agent looked rather taken aback.

“I’m sorry sir, were you requiring two?”

“Well, there are two of us.”

He was greeted with silence, and realised that, what with Rose half-asleep on him and his arm round her waist, they had probably never appeared any _less_ platonic than they did now. Perhaps he should have specifically mentioned that they weren’t a couple. Bit late now.

“I’m sorry, my mistake,” the agent said, looking a bit embarrassed. “I just assumed ... but, well, we can still find you some two-bedroom properties to view, although the rent will be significantly higher.”

“Never mind the rent,” the Doctor said, his mind on the cash in his pocket. “What’s the upfront cost?”

“Well, for two bedrooms the deposit, agents fee and first rent instalment together start at three thousand staples.”

The Doctor groaned. “And ... this place?”

“Two thousand.”

They could afford that. The Doctor glanced around the flat again. They could get a fold-up camp-bed to squeeze in the middle, and in the meantime he didn’t begrudge taking the floor. Better than sleeping on the pavement.

“Rose?” he enquired, nudging her. “What do you think?”

She barely glanced around. “It’s got a bed, that’s all I care about.”

The Doctor sat her down on the bed and had a quick scour round the flat with the sonic screwdriver. The flat was in pretty good condition. The lack of space would no doubt drive him mad after a while, but it would do for now.

“Okay, we’ll take it.”


	4. Finding Food

“I can’t sleep.”

The Doctor raised his head off his coat, not able to believe his ears. “What?”

“I said I can’t sleep, Doctor—What are you doing down there?”

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. “In case you didn’t notice, there’s only one bed. And how can you not be able to sleep? I had to wake you up about four times before we got here.”

“In case _you_ didn’t notice, it’s a double bed, and I left a space for you. And I haven’t eaten in three days, I can’t sleep properly when I’m hungry.”

The Doctor sat up, rubbing his eyes. _Humans_. So hard to please. Rose was lying on the far side of the mattress, her exhausted face peering at him in the perfect picture of innocence. His annoyance quickly drained away when his own stomach growled. “Fine, food it is.”

By now it was late, and the Doctor was too tired to try and figure out what exactly the time was in Earth hours but there weren’t many people around outside. He and Rose wandered the streets for a while, trying to find anywhere open, before coming across a small, brightly-lit fast-food place with an ‘Open’ sign.

“We should probably go easy on the money,” the Doctor murmured as they ventured inside. “We don’t know when we’ll be able to get some more. Fancy splitting a poubun?”

“What’s that?”

“Local speciality. It’s ... bit like a burger, I suppose, but a different shape and a bit spicy. They’re quite big.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Want a drink, too?”

“Yeah, don’t mind.”

The Doctor stepped up to the counter. “Could we have a poubun and chips, with a zonberry milkshake please?”

“Eighteen staples, sir.”

Rose grinned. “Really? They have chips?”

“Rose, what kind of a friend would I be if I made you live on a planet that didn’t have chips?”

“A bad one,” Rose said dead seriously. “So what’s a zonberry?”

“Closest thing on this planet to a strawberry,” the Doctor replied, taking the tray.

“You didn’t get yourself a drink.”

“I’m not fussed, I’ll just have a sip of yours if that’s all right.”

“I suppose so,” Rose pretended to say grudgingly. “It was your yoyo after all.”


	5. Sleeping Arrangements

Rose was falling asleep on the Doctor’s shoulder again as they retraced their steps back to the flat.

“You know, you don’t have to sleep on the floor,” she murmured after he let them both in. “There’s room for two.”

The Doctor looked down at her, trying to work out if she would still mean that when she had had a decent night’s sleep or not. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, idiot. You take chivalry way too far. Come on, nice soft mattress awaits.”

“Oh ...” He was too tired to argue. “All right.”

Rose collapsed onto the mattress and shifted over to the wall side. The Doctor gently removed her shoes, kicked his own off and pulled his coat, suit jacket and tie off. Before getting onto the mattress himself, he lay his coat over Rose in lieu of covers. She was already zonked out and didn’t notice.

For a double bed, it wasn’t that big. Or maybe it just felt small because the Doctor was used to being alone in one. Either way, he was very conscious of their close proximity to each other. Although he lay as close to the edge as was possible without falling off, he could still smell Rose’s shampoo as if someone was holding a bottle of it under his nose.

Shampoo, he thought sleepily. Going to have to buy some ... and soap... and food... and plates ... and bedcovers ... and clothes ... and ... and ...

His first waking thoughts were _Need curtains_ as Em Yle’s sun pierced his eyelids. A moment after he’d woken up, he realised that he, or Rose, or both, had moved in their sleep. She was now burrowed into his chest, her hair tickling his nose, and his arm—how did that happen?—around her waist. He withdrew it as quickly as he dared, trying not to wake her up.

It was some time before Rose stirred, during which he lay as still as he could, composing a very long mental list of everything they would need. When she woke, she seemed quite surprised and a little embarrassed at her Time Lord pillow.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, pulling back a bit and rubbing her eyes, smudging four-day-old mascara everywhere. “Was I pushing you out?”

The Doctor grinned, reached over and with his shirt sleeve attempted to stop her looking like a panda. “No, just preventing my escape.” Rose laughed.


	6. The First Morning

The seemingly eternal shuttle ride and the hours of standing in line had certainly taken their toll on the pair of them. The Doctor volunteered to go out and find them some breakfast while Rose took the first turn in the shower, and upon returning he found her back on the mattress, apparently dozing, curled up underneath his coat.

For a moment he was tempted to forget about the food and shower and join her in getting a few more hours’ shuteye. Then he noticed her discarded clothes on the floor and thought better of it.

Instead he unpacked the shopping. A large bakery up the road had supplied a small loaf of sweet bread and two takeaway coffees, which would do for breakfast, and on the way back he had nabbed a couple of necessities that couldn’t wait any longer from the supermarket, namely soap and toilet roll.

“Doctor?”

He turned. Rose’s face, now scrubbed free of the smudged makeup, peered at him from under his collar. “Morning, Rose.”

“Morning,” she replied. “You found us some breakfast?”

“Yup. Help yourself.” The Doctor turned round while she got dressed, feeling a slight blush in his cheeks that she fortunately couldn’t see. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t lived together before, but this was somewhat more intimate than he was used to. He told himself to get a grip.

“Okay, you can turn round,” Rose told him, smoothing down her crumpled top. “I feel a right mess in these.”

The Doctor grinned. “I probably look just as bad. I think clothes should be the first thing to get today, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Can I smell coffee?”

Breakfast was a fairly quiet affair, both parties deep in thought, then Rose went back to the mattress while the Doctor took to the shower. Soap had hardly ever felt so wonderful, after days with nothing but the clothes on his back (now scattered on the bathroom floor). Putting them back on afterwards just felt _wrong_ —especially since they had no towels to dry off on—but it wouldn’t be for long.

It must have been gone midday by the time they stepped outside the flat with a long shopping list. The hours on Em Yle would take some getting used to, the Doctor said. And not just the time system, but the actual daily cycle, which was shorter than Earth days. At the present moment, the jet lag was also not helping.

“Shall we split up for clothes, then meet up later and do food together?” Rose suggested. “Should be quicker that way.”

The Doctor agreed. “Tell you what.” He pulled the psychic paper out of his pocket and handed it to Rose. “I’ll send a message on this when I’m ready, saying where I am, then you can join me when you’re done.”

“You’re assuming I’ll take longer than you,” Rose pointed out.

“It’s clothes shopping, of course you will.”

Rose glared, and the Doctor ducked.


	7. A Lesson in Financial Geography

Clothes shopping—or really, any shopping other than necessary shopping—was usually cathartic for Rose, but that was in the day of the Doctor’s handy unlimited credit sticks. At this moment, however, she was trying to figure out how far the budget he had left her with was going to stretch.

She’d found a street of clothes shops, but the problem was that forty staples would only get her a couple of items in any of them. Which wasn’t really enough.

Rose sighed, running a hand longingly over a rack of soft tops in a material she didn’t recognise, priced at twenty-five staples each. This was impossible, she couldn’t just have one change of clothes. And there was other things she needed, like shoes and underwear ...

A sudden warmth in her jacket pocket distracted her, and she pulled out the psychic paper. Across it in the Doctor’s handwriting was: _Stop right there, I’ve found what we need. Come and find me outside flat. D x_

“Don’t worry, I haven’t bought anything,” Rose preceded the conversation as she walked up to the front of the building, where the Doctor was standing, accompanied by a Yle. “What’ve you found?”

The Doctor grinned at her. “We went to the wrong side of town. Well, I say wrong, I mean the expensive side. Dab here—” he gestured to the Yle “—says the market is our best option.”

Rose introduced herself to Dab, shaking his fuchsia hand. “And this market sells clothes as well as food, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Dab replied. He gazed into Rose’s face for a moment, in apparent interest with perhaps a little attraction thrown in, until the Doctor cleared his throat loudly. “Oh—sorry. The market is this way.”

Rose couldn’t help but grin as they found the market, crammed with stalls and bustling with Ylies, a few Gusk, and even one or two humans. No matter how many she visited, she always loved an alien market. She had to tug on the Doctor’s arm at one point, as he looked ready to get thoroughly distracted by a stall selling shiny cogs and buttons and what looked like spare parts for every piece of technology you could ever own; likewise, he had to practically carry her away from a stall selling handmade bronze jewellery.

Several stalls in a row were selling clothes. There were no suits to speak of, but some shirts similar to the ones the Doctor usually wore, which he stopped to examine further. Rose moved along until she found the women’s clothes. Perhaps because of the Ylies’ natural colouring, most of the clothes were quite plain and pale, but one stall on the end assaulted Rose’s eyes with a vast array of colours and patterns, obviously meant for non-natives.

Forty staples here was enough to fit her up with a whole new wardrobe, and once she’d paid she headed back to find the Doctor. He wasn’t at the shirt stall, and Dab seemed to have disappeared too. Rose was about to panic, when she heard her name being called.

“ROSE! I’ve found underwear!”


	8. This Little Chicken Went to Market

Laden down with clothes, hoping that their shared wardrobe would accommodate them all, Rose and the Doctor had to head back to the flat before returning to the market for food. Dab had pointed out which were the best stalls to buy different foods on, so once they’d navigated their way back there, they made a beeline for the first stall.

“I’ve never seen half these vegetables,” Rose said, gazing at the mounds of fruit and vegetables and the bundles of herbs. “Wait, I’ve seen that one. Didn’t we have it on Unkabrall?”

The Doctor looked where she was pointing. “That’s Romanescue cauliflower. From Earth.”

“Oh. No wonder it looks familiar.”

“I don’t blame you for thinking it looks alien,” the Doctor said with a smile. “Anyway, maybe we should go with the familiar for now, till things look better on the money front.”

Rose wasn’t sure when that would be, but they were being optimistic. She nodded. “Okay. Well, I see asparagus, leeks, I think that’s beetroot ... are they onions?”

“Shallots. No onions here.”

“Mushrooms. I think.”

“The mushrooms are different here, definitely worth trying,” the Doctor said. “Shall we try the UFO-looking cauliflower?”

“Yeah. And what’s that?”

“Fayn. Root vegetable, tastes somewhere between a carrot and a sweet potato. Fancy trying it?”

Their bags full of vegetables and bananas, they moved on to the next stall, which was selling rice and other cereals. The stall after that was selling tins, jars, bottles and packets; by this time Rose’s arms were ready to fall off with the weight.

“What I wouldn’t give for a shopping trolley right now,” she muttered.

“We’re almost done,” the Doctor assured her. “Just meat to go. What do you fancy?”

“I don’t mind, whatever they’ve got. Within reason.”

The stall Dab had pointed out didn’t seem to have anything on it. The Gusk behind it smiled warmly at them.

“What can I get for you today, sir, madam?”

“What do you have?” the Doctor asked.

“Just for the two of you, is it?” the man asked. “How big’s your freezer?”

The Doctor and Rose looked at each other. “Er ... miniscule, why?” the Doctor said.

“Ah. Then you’ll be wanting poultry, comes in the smallest portions. We have jujo, chicken or kang. No duck today, sorry.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at Rose. “Stick with chicken for now?” She nodded. “Chicken, please.”

“Coming right up. Asp!” the Gusk bellowed behind him. “Bring us a chicken!” He turned back to his customers. “Nine staples, please sir.”

The Doctor was about to hand the money over when a younger Gusk appeared, carrying a wooden cage. Inside was a live chicken, squawking indignantly. Rose blanched—they weren’t going to kill it right there, were they?

“Here you are, madam,” the man said cheerfully, placing it in Rose’s arms. “All yours.”


	9. When in Rome

“So we’re agreed. Some things are worth paying a bit of extra money for.” Rose placed the more expensive, but thoroughly dead, chicken in the fridge and closed the door.

The Doctor grimaced, rearranging the other food items they’d just bought to try and fit them all in the cupboard. “Absolutely.”

“Is it normal for people here to buy home-slaughter animals?”

“Obviously for some, yes.”

“Well I think that’s an economy we can live without.” Rose sighed and flopped onto the mattress. “We still need a load of stuff, don’t we.”

“Towels, bedclothes, shampoo, cooking equipment, cutlery ... yeah, a lot.” The Doctor crammed the final tin in the cupboard and shut the door. “I don’t think towels and bedclothes can wait any longer, and we’re going to need some crockery and cutlery to be able to eat tonight.”

Rose yawned. “Exactly how many hours are in a day here?”

“Earth hours or Em Yle hours?”

“Both.”

“One hour here is fifty minutes, not sixty. And there’s twenty of them in a day, rather than twenty-four.”

Rose groaned.

“At least it’s nice round figures. You don’t want to try the system on Bakavenate. Thirty-seven minutes to an hour, twenty-nine in a day ...”

“All right! Point taken.”

“I saw a shop with crockery in the window near the supermarket, don’t know about other things. We could split up, one of us go there and the other try to find the other things?”

“Couldn’t it wait till after lunch? I’m famished.”

The market had sold all kinds of finger food and hot dishes in takeaway trays, which came with little plastic cutlery. The cheapest item was _indso_ , a kind of creamy, mildly curry flavour soup, which they had brought two portions of back with them.

“It’s supposed to be eaten with bread,” the Doctor said, breaking a piece off the loaf from that morning. “To use up stale bread, you break it up and let it soak.”

“It’s nice,” Rose said after a hesitant sip. “What’s in it?”

“Some veg, mainly mushrooms I think, probably some meat or fish ...” The Doctor took a bite of soup-soaked bread. “Meat, I think. Can’t be too certain what. Might be more than one kind. Bread?”

“Yeah, okay. Why not.” Rose stirred bite-sized pieces of bread into the soup and let them go soggy, the way the Doctor was with his. Silence fell for a while as they ate their lunch. Rose noticed the mushrooms had a distinctly stronger flavour than she was used to, but she decided she liked it.

She still hadn’t washed, at least not with soap, and was still wearing the clothes she’d arrived on Em Yle wearing. All she felt like doing was having a nice long hot soak, changing into her new pyjamas, and crawling into bed, but there were still a good few hours in the day—although she couldn’t be sure how many—and things that needed to be done. Not to mention they only had a shower, not a bath.

“One of us should get a clock,” she said suddenly. “Or a watch. We don’t have any way of telling the time here.”

“Good point. And a map of the area would be useful too.” The Doctor thought for a moment. “Come to think of it, I’m not even sure which country we’re in, let alone which city ...”


	10. Rose Pink, TARDIS Blue

“They only came in packs of four,” Rose said, showing the Doctor one of the plain white plates. “But I managed to fit them all in the cupboard okay. Did you get all the other stuff?”

“Yup. Found a store near the market, sold everything from bread makers to pepper shakers. I got us the basics; saucepan, frying pan, chopping board, knives.”

“What about the towels and bedclothes?”

The Doctor grinned. “You’ll love them. Was going to get plain, but actually the coloured ones were cheaper ...” He pulled a folded towel out of the shopping bag, and Rose grinned.

“Pink!”

“Thought you’d like that.”

“You’re going to use pink towels, are you?” Rose said with a chuckle.

“’Course not. I got yellow ones for me. Anyway, I haven’t shown you the bedclothes yet.”

“Go on then.”

He opened the second bag, and Rose gasped. The material was a deep midnight blue—TARDIS blue, in fact—patterned with stars.

“They’re beautiful.”

“That’s what I thought. They were slightly more than the flowery set, but ...”

“No, no, definitely worth it,” Rose said, stroking the cover nostalgically. “What about the actual quilt?”

“Got to go back for that. And the pillows. Too much to carry at once.” The Doctor took a deep breath. “Dare I ask, how much money do we have left?”

Rose took out her remaining staples, and he stared at the now very small pile in front of them for a moment. “That’s not much,” the Doctor said heavily. “Certainly not another month’s rent. Might just get us food till then, but not much else. I wonder how much a clockwork mouse would go for round here ...”

“Well, maybe now’s as good a time as any to mention,” Rose said. “I’ve got a job interview.”

The Doctor’s head shot up. Until that point, neither of them had mentioned the dreaded ‘J’ word, although they knew perfectly well that at least one of them was going to have to get one at some point—they couldn’t survive on the contents of the Doctor’s pockets forever. “What? How’d you manage that, you only went to the supermarket!”

“Exactly. They had a sign asking for staff in the window, and I asked. They said all they needed was proof of entry to the planet, and an interview. I’m going day after tomorrow.”

The Doctor made a pretty good impression of a goldfish for a minute or two. “And you only mentioned this now?”

“You walked in asking about the crockery, so I answered you.”

“Rose ...”

“What?”

“We’ve got the psychic paper, you could have any qualification you wanted. You could go for a much better job than a shelf-stacker.”

“Maybe later,” Rose said. “But for the moment, considering we have less than a month to find some rent, I thought it would be best if I went for a job I know I can actually do, and do well, rather than be too ambitious.”

“Okay,” the Doctor said slowly. “That’s logical. But don’t for a moment think that I’ll let you carry the burden of bringing home money on your own. There’s got to be a good job round here for a modest genius ...”


	11. This Little Time Lord Went Back for Milk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while, I forgot! Not about the story, but that I hadn't been uploading to this site for a while. I'll try not to forget again!

The Doctor poured the tea into two new mugs, stirred, and then froze. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

“There’s no milk. Rose! We can’t have tea without milk! I didn’t think of milk ...”

“I don’t think we got anything dairy, did we?” Rose asked.

“No.” The Doctor looked around for a clock, and remembered there wasn’t one. “Reckon the market will still be there?”

Rose shrugged. “How should I know?”

“If it’s not, we’ll have to go to the supermarket.” The Doctor pulled on his coat, and paused. “Are you coming?”

Rose shook her head. “Tired.”

Muttering something about human stamina and getting a brand new pillow thrown at him in the process, the Doctor left the flat and headed back to the market. He arrived just as the first sun was beginning to set, and some of the vendors were beginning to pack up.

“Excuse me, where can I get milk?” he asked a passer-by, who pointed him towards a stall on the end. The Doctor hurried up to the owner.

“Hi, sorry, are you still open?”

“For another hour, sir. What’ll it be?”

“Erm ...” The Doctor looked at the list. Cow’s milk, naz milk, mon milk, goat’s milk, or almond. Almond? “What’s the little ‘U’ after ‘Mon’?” he asked.

“U stands for unpasteurised.”

“Oh.” The next cheapest was naz. He wasn’t entirely sure what a naz was, but when he asked for it, the owner said they’d sold out.

“Sorry, we’ve only got cow and goat left.”

“I’ll take a pint of cow’s milk then,” the Doctor said, half-expecting to be asked to milk it himself, and relieved when instead the owner retrieved a bottle from the fridge.

“Anything else, sir? Eggs, cheese?”

“Yeah. Could I have half a dozen eggs, a pack of butter, and ...” Now presented with a list of cheeses, the Doctor skimmed down till he found a familiar name. “Some double Gloucester.”

After he’d paid, the Doctor asked, “Where could I get a map of the area?”

“Ooh, not sure. You could try the supermarket, otherwise you’d probably need to go further into town.”

“Thank you.”

Deciding to leave the map for another day, the Doctor did stop at a stall selling watches and got a small, cheap alarm clock for the flat. He returned to find Rose at the tiny stove, dressed in her new pyjamas with a towel around her head; the saucepan bubbling away and two chicken pieces sizzling in the frying pan.

“You’re cooking dinner?” he said in surprise, putting the milk down on the table. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? This flat didn’t come with a fire extinguisher.”

Rose stuck her tongue out at him. “And here I was thinking you would appreciate coming home to a meal cooked by someone else for a change.”

“You are absolutely right. I apologise.” The Doctor still watched her warily. “Do you want a hand with the chicken?”

“No, but you could do the tea now if you want to feel useful.”

“Okay.” The Doctor reheated the tea and added the milk, keeping half an eye on Rose as he did so. “Watch it, that’s about to boil over.”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it. Backseat chef.”


	12. Universal Roaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should warn, there will be the odd chapter that’s overall sad rather than funny. Not often, but on occasion. I’m trying to keep it realistic. This is one.

Rose took a deep breath. The Doctor slipped his hand into hers. “I’m right here.”

“Thanks. Okay, I’m dialling.”

Her fingers trembled as she selected her mother’s number, and pressed dial.

“Mum, it’s me.”

“Rose, sweetheart, ‘bout time you called. Listen, is the Doctor’s sonic whatsit any good with plumbing? ‘Cause first the boiler goes and Shareen’s brother nearly floods the place—”

“Mum,” Rose cut over Jackie’s monologue. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

There was a pause. “That sounds serious, love. Shouldn’t you come home to tell me?”

“That could be bit of a problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mum ... we’ve lost the TARDIS.”

“How d’you mean, _lost?_ How can you lose a bleedin’ spaceship? Where’d you last have it?”

“It’s not that simple, she kind of fell into the centre of a planet. With no way to get her out. So ... we’re sort of stuck.”

There was a long silence while Jackie digested this.

“Are you telling me,” she said, in a dangerously low voice, “that the Doctor can’t take you home? After he _promised_ me—”

“It’s not his fault, Mum. And it’s really not like we’re dead or anything, we’re both fine. Really. We just can’t go anywhere.”

“ _Just!_ Is he there?”

The Doctor shook his head frantically. Rose glared at him and handed the mobile over. She could have sworn his hands were actually shaking as he took it, despite his being well out of Jackie’s reach. “Jackie. Er ... hi. How are you?”

“ _How am I?_ You’re telling me my daughter is stranded on some planet somewhere and you’re asking _how am I?_ ”

“All right, sorry! Poor choice of words!”

“You promised me, Doctor, you said you’d bring her back to me.”

The Doctor closed his eyes. Rose recognised the signs of guilt. “I know I did. I’m sorry.”

“ _Sorry?_ ”

Jackie shrieked for a couple of minutes, and then began to plead. “Please, Doctor, isn’t there anything you can do? Hitch a lift? Teleport? Anything!”

“It’s not that simple,” the Doctor replied. “Wish it were. But we’re not in the twenty-first century anymore, so going back to Earth wouldn’t be the same as going home.”

“What?”

The Doctor passed the phone back to Rose. “Mum, we’re in the year 4179, on a planet called Em Yle. And we’re okay, really.”

“But ... if you’re in the future ...”

“Superphone, Mum, remember. Can call anywhere, anytime.”

“Right. I forgot that ... Oh, Rose.” Jackie sniffed. “I’m never going to see you again, am I?”

“No,” Rose said quietly. “No, you’re not.”

“But you can keep phoning, right? With your superphone, I mean this isn’t—this isn’t the last time I’m going to hear your voice?”

“Yeah, I’ll keep calling,” Rose said. “Let you know how we’re doing. It’ll just be like having me living in another country.”

“I suppose.”

“Anyway, Mum, we’re fine. We’ve found somewhere to live, and I’ve got a job interview this week, and the people round here seem pretty friendly.”

“Aliens?”

“Mostly. Some humans.”

Jackie pressed for more details, and Rose obliged, trying to make it sound as much like an adventure as she possibly could. When her little knowledge of the planet had run out, there was a pause, Jackie still sniffling the other end.

“When will you call again?”

“I’ll let you know if I get the job or not,” Rose said with a small smile that her mother couldn’t see. “So you’ll talk to me again soon.”

“Take care, sweetheart. Both of you. I love you, Rose.”

“Love you too, Mum.”

She heard Jackie begin sobbing again just before she hung up, and squeezed her own eyes shut, trying to repress tears. The Doctor pulled her gently into his arms and just held her while they came.


	13. Delayed Jet Lag

Before they retired, the Doctor managed to rig the towels so they made temporary curtains, and it was perhaps because of this that they both slept so well. When Rose finally awoke, feeling more refreshed than she had for about a week, she noticed the time on the new clock read 13:17.

“Doctor,” Rose said, shaking him. “Wake up. It’s the afternoon.”

“What?”

“We’ve slept all morning.”

The Doctor rolled over, looked blearily at the clock for a while, and then replied. “No we haven’t.”

“We haven’t? I thought midday here was at ten?”

“It is. But look at the date.” The Doctor pointed.

“So?”

“It’s the day after tomorrow. We’ve slept for about twenty hours.” He rubbed his eyes.

“The day after—My interview!” Rose shot out of bed and ran to the shower. “It’s in forty minutes!”

“Here!” The Doctor threw her one of the pink towels. “I’ll get you some breakfast.”

“Thanks!” Rose turned the shower on, hopping from one foot to the other as it took a painfully long time to warm up. After a quick soaping, she dried off and emerged, wrapped in the towel, to find the Doctor had laid out some of her more formal new clothes ready to put on, and was cutting up the last of the sweet loaf and buttering it.

“What do you want on this?” he asked, his back to her as she changed.

“I’ll just have it plain,” Rose answered, and wolfed it down as quick as she dared, swallowing half the coffee in one gulp. “Thanks Doctor, you’re brilliant. Who says you can’t do domestic, eh?”

“Oy, you’re running too late to start teasing,” the Doctor said with a grin. “Ready?”

“Ready. How’d I look?”

He looked her up and down. “Have you combed your hair? ‘Cause it’s a bit ...”

Rose froze. “Comb. Don’t have a comb. No! I can’t go to an interview like this!” She was starting to hyperventilate, but the Doctor fumbled in his pockets and drew out a comb. She stared.

“You could have mentioned _earlier_ you had this!” She took it and began attacking her locks, wincing as the teeth stuck. “Oh, this is going to take forever ...”

“Here, let me.” As the only one of them who wasn’t panicking, the Doctor took the comb and did a much quicker job of sorting her hair than she would have. “There, you look lovely.”

“Thanks.” Rose looked at the clock. “I’m going to have to run.”

“Allow me.” Before Rose could stop him, the Doctor had lifted her in his arms, and was hurrying out of the flat. He positively sprinted to the supermarket, arriving with four minutes to spare.

“There,” he gasped as he let her down. “Better not to arrive out of breath, not the best first impression.”

Not having time to thank him properly, Rose planted a quick kiss on his cheek before hurrying inside.

-

The Doctor watched Rose head in, and stifled a yawn. His legs suddenly felt like rubber. He managed to make it round the corner before he had to sit down. He’d just rest a moment, he told himself. Just a moment ...

-

After the interview, Rose ventured outside to find the Doctor had disappeared. Assuming had had headed back to the flat, and slightly disappointed that he hadn’t waited for her, she began the journey back on her own, only to find him fast asleep on a bench.


	14. Fish Out of Water

“I can’t believe we didn’t see this stall last time.”

“We didn’t come round this part. And we didn’t think to ask,” the Doctor replied. “Now come on, choose. What’ll it be for the ‘congratulations on getting the job’ dinner?”

“I haven’t tried any of these before,” Rose said, looking along the rows and rows of fish. “So I guess I don’t mind—well, nothing with tentacles, but otherwise anything.”

“You’re not local, then?” the stall owner said, looking at them in interest.

“Nope. Just arrived. Everything new,” the Doctor said with a grin. “What do you recommend?”

“We have a special deal on mixed shellfish today. A very successful catch this morning, we’re overflowing with the stuff.”

“Fancy shellfish?” the Doctor said to Rose. “Wait, caught this morning? That’s fresh. Are we near the coast?”

The owner looked at the Doctor as if he was trying to be funny. “Where did you think we were?”

“I don’t know,” the Doctor replied honestly. “We only just got to this planet and we’re not too sure where we landed.”

“This is Slogv.”

“Slojev?”

“Slow-jev,” he repeated, slower. “The coast’s about five miles east.”

“Is there a beach?” Rose said eagerly. “I’ve always wanted to live on the seaside ...”

“What am I, a fishmonger or tourist information? Yes, there’s a beach, miss. Now, what’ll it be?”

Shortly afterwards, the pair left the market with a small yellow fish, a bag of mixed shellfish and some edible seaweed that the Doctor promised tasted of more than just salt. They made a detour, thinking it was about time to get some maps, and once home, the Doctor started cooking fish pie.

“We’ve probably got enough there for four people, Doctor,” Rose pointed out.

“Even better, no need to cook tomorrow. Want to try some glanire?”

Rose took a hesitant bite of the crispy seaweed, and almost choked. “I thought you said it wasn’t salty!”

“No, I said it tasted of more than salt. Did I mention it’s an acquired taste?”

“No you did not.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

A comfortable silence stretched, the only sound being the sauce bubbling in the saucepan. Rose gazed round the room, wondering what they could do to it to make it feel a bit more like home. The fridge had a nice hum to it that reminded her of the TARDIS, but otherwise the flat still felt like a temporary place to stay. It was foreseeable that they would be there for a long time.

They could check the contract and see if a lick of paint was allowable. If not, a throw or rug would add some more colour to the place. And a couple of plants, not to mention some thick curtains, for the window would hopefully not be too expensive. The Doctor was bound to amass some unidentifiable knick-knacks over time, no doubt they would make the place look more lived-in.

Rose missed the TARDIS, but realised the Doctor must be feeling the pain of separation far more than she was. So far he seemed to be taking it all in his stride, but she was sure that at some point it would hit home. She would just have to be prepared to help him when it happened.

“Mum says hi,” Rose said after hanging up, just as the Doctor was taking the fish pie out the oven.

“Hope you passed my regards onto her.”

“She also says you’d better look after me properly, or so help her she’ll find a way to get here and slap you all the way back to the twenty-first century.”

The Doctor shuddered. “I wish I could say I didn’t believe her.”


	15. Permanent Tourists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a little Doctor Who fic competition on my blog. No writing involved, just translate the Gallifreyan at the bottom (yes it's possible) and get a character named after you! Blog address is alexharlequin dot net, and the post is titled "Idiotic Things I've Done This Month".

The next morning, Rose awoke to find the Doctor already up, pouring over a map on the table. “Morning.”

“Morning Rose,” he said without looking up. “I’ve worked out where we are.”

“Good.” Rose slipped out of bed and ventured over. “Where on Em Yle are we?”

He moved the map to one side, revealing two more underneath. “Okay, this is a map of the planet. We’re down here, in Cogodia.”

Like Earth, Em Yle seemed to be mainly sea. Unlike Earth, there was only one large land mass, which stretched almost from one pole to another, and the rest was dotted with island clusters. The land mass was divided into colour groups, and the Doctor pointed to one small purple area on the eastern edge, about halfway between the equator and the south pole, labelled _Cogodia_.

“So Cogodia’s the country?”

“Yes.” The Doctor moved that map to one side and pulled back the second. “This is a map of Cogodia. We’re here, in Slogv. It’s a city, but only just, not a very big one.”

Rose grinned. “Right on the coast.”

“Yeah. Now ...” The Doctor turned to the third map. “This one’s of Slogv. We’re around here somewhere.” The city was divided into colour sections, and he pointed to the one marked ‘EC’.

“What’s EC mean?”

“Eastern Central. Look, see the one in the middle is C, and look at the others round it ... NC, EC, SC, WC—Rose, don’t laugh—and then further out, it’s just N, E, S and W. If we wanted to visit the beach, we’d go out to E.”

“ _Can_ we visit the beach?”

“I think we should look into local transport prices first.” The Doctor pushed the maps around, trying to find something. “Where’d I put it?—Oh, there you are.” He uncovered a book titled ‘The Tourist’s Guide to Em Yle’.

“We’re not tourists,” Rose said.

“I know, but they didn’t have an Em Yle for immigrants book. Anyway, I prefer to think of us as permanent tourists.”

Rose grinned. “I like that.”

“Public transport seems reasonable,” the Doctor said, flicking through the relevant section of the book. “Maybe in a couple of paycheck’s time we could get some swimming things and go out there.”

“How long will the weather be like this for?” Rose asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Er ... good question. Weather ... weather ...” the Doctor thumbed through the book. “Don’t know. This book was written with the assumption that the reader knows what the date is.”

“That’s helpful.”


	16. Double Standards

“So how long have you been here?”

“Only a few days,” Rose replied, taking a sip of tea. It wasn’t the kind of tea she was used to; as it was mainly humans that drank that, it wasn’t an option on the average Em Yle vending machine. This tea was stronger, sweeter and had a funny aftertaste she wasn’t sure she liked, but was still better than the machine’s coffee.

Elsa, the first co-worker to talk to her, was a Yle about Jackie’s age who seemed to mother the younger employees. Rose had warmed to her immediately.

“Where are you from?”

“Earth,” Rose replied.

“Goodness, that’s a long way to come.”

 _Further away than you might think_ , Rose thought, but just took another sip of Yle tea.

“Did you come on your own?”

Rose shook her head. “Just me and my companion. We’ve got a flat on Nontun Road.”

“Oh, I know that road. It’s quite a nice area. Very convenient for work, isn’t it.”

“Mm, yeah.”

Her first day at the supermarket had gone all right. She was worried all the reaching for the top shelves would eventually do her back in, but hopefully it would only be temporary. At the most, it would only be for two years, once the credit system came into the planet. Although whether the Doctor would let her retire in luxury once they could get the unlimited credit was another matter; he could be strangely double-standard about that sort of thing.

She wondered how he was doing, at the flat on his own, whether he had died of boredom yet—or blown up the street whilst trying to beat the boredom. This kind of life did not come naturally to him.

 _Stop worrying_ , she told herself. _He’ll be fine. He’s nine hundred years old, he knows how to entertain himself._

“Are you all right?” Elsa asked in concern. Rose forced a smile.

“Yeah, fine. Just trying not to picture what my companion’s up to right now.”

“Oh, dear. Is he not well behaved?”

This seemed like an odd sort of phrase to Rose, but she didn’t question it. “Not really. Well ... it’s just that when he’s on his own, he gets a bit restless.”

“Oh, I ... see.” Elsa looked quite awkward. “I’m sorry.”

-

Rose’s break ended and she returned to the shelves. Elsa watched her for a while, feeling very sorry for the young woman. Poor Rose, she was such a nice girl, she deserved more. Elsa resolved that, if she ever met said companion, she would have some very strong words to say to that unfaithful bastard.


	17. A Stimulating Day

When Rose entered the flat, she found the Doctor resting his head on his arms on the table, apparently dozing. A newspaper lay under him at the jobs section, and something was in the oven, though Rose wasn’t sure what.

“Hi,” she said as he opened one eye.

“How’s your day?” he mumbled, opening the other eye and propping his head up on his elbow.

“Fine. How was yours?”

“Erm ... fine,” he clearly lied. Rose gave him a sympathetic hug.

“You were bored stiff, weren’t you?”

He sniffed. “I was not.”

“Yeah, you were, you liar.” She ruffled his hair fondly. “How’s the job hunting going?”

The Doctor grimaced. “Boring, boring, not my field of expertise, boring, bad hours, boring, bad pay, and a few more boring ones.”

“Well, filling shelves isn’t exactly my idea of stimulating.”

“I realise that, and I’m not trying to say that I’m too good for that kind of job—”

“But?”

“But I really want to find something that I could tolerate actually staying in long-term rather than being driven mad after a week of it. But there’s hardly anything challenging on offer at all.”

“Oh, Doctor. Don’t worry, you’ll find something. At least we don’t have to worry about paying the rent any more, as long as we’re careful.”

“I can’t ask you to support both of us indefinitely Rose, that’s not fair.”

“You don’t have to ask, I’m doing it happily. I’d rather that than you get a crappy job, I’d be worrying how long you’d keep it for.”

The Doctor gave her a look, but decided not to comment. “Well, I insist that once I’ve found the perfect vocation, you find something more challenging for yourself,” he insisted. “You’re brilliant, you could do any number of things.”

“Thanks. And it’s a deal. So, what’s cooking?”

“Casserole, which should be ready in ...” The Doctor pushed the paper side, hunting for the clock. “Ten minutes ago.” He shot up out of the chair and into the kitchenette.

“Is it all right?”

A pause while the Doctor got the dish out of the oven, and half-dropped it onto the bench with a hiss of pain. “Ow! We really need to get some proper oven gloves, the heat burns through the towel too fast.”

“I’ll add them to the list. Hey, you could get them tomorrow while I’m out. Give you something to do.”

“Sounds stimulating,” Rose heard him mutter from round the corner. “Anyway, this looks fine. Chicken’s not overcooked. Are you hungry now?”

Rose moved the newspapers off the table while the Doctor dished up. He’d gone quite quiet. “Doctor, are you all right?” she asked.

“Mm? Yeah.”

Rose wasn’t sure she believed him, although she didn’t want to press the matter. They ate in silence, the Doctor looking deep in thought. Towards the end, he seemed to snap out of it. “So, how was your day?”

Before she went to bed that night, Rose compiled a list.

_Dear Doctor—_

_Here is a list of things for you to do while I’m at work._

  1. _Get oven gloves, dishcloths and cleaner._
  2. _Make the bed (properly this time!)_
  3. _Clean the windows_
  4. _Fix the hole in my left trainer_
  5. _Find something to use as a bin_
  6. _See if you’ve got any board or card games in your pockets_
  7. _If not, get some, including something that can be played with only one player_
  8. _Draw some pictures we can hang on the walls_
  9. _Cook dinner_
  10. _Organise a race between the snails on the window-sill_



That should keep him occupied a while ...


	18. Meeting the Neighbours

**AN:** I point readers towards reddwarfaddict’s 13 Woodcutter Road (on FFnet) as one of my inspiration sources. Do go and read it. One of my favourite fics ever. (The other source should be obvious.)

-

When Rose returned to the flat, she found it empty. Wondering where the Doctor was, she found a note on the kitchen bench reading _Come next door—no. 73_.

She was let in the moment she knocked on the door. The flat was bigger than theirs, and the occupants were a middle-age Gusk couple who welcomed her warmly. The Doctor grinned at her from their sofa, looking right at home with a mug in his hands.

“I see you’ve been making friends,” Rose said.

“Rose, come and meet the neighbours,” the Doctor grinned. “This is Adge and Lada Mojofixx. And this is my companion, Rose Tyler.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Adge said, taking Rose’s hand warmly in both his own.

“You too. I hope my companion hasn’t been making a nuisance of himself,” Rose said, glancing at the Doctor over her shoulder, to which he looked affronted and mouthed, ‘Me?’

“Oh, no. Quite the contrary, he offered his cleaning services.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “Cleaning services?”

“He did the washing up, dusted and hovered the whole flat, and did all our laundry for us,” Lada said. “Free of charge.”

“Oh he didn’t, did he?” Rose shook her head, trying not to laugh. “You’ll have to excuse him, he gets bored easily.”

“Rose, I am right here you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He stuck his tongue out at her and the others chuckled.

“So how long did the to-do list I left you take?” Rose asked.

“Finished it by noon.”

She would have to make tomorrow’s much longer then. “So, you’ve gone domestic then?” she teased. The Doctor’s eyes widened in horror and she laughed at him.

“Rose, would you like a drink?” Adge asked, moving towards the kitchen. “Tea, coffee, fayn juice?”

“Erm ... fayn juice, please,” she said, slightly wary but curiosity won out.

The Doctor and Lada continued a discussion they’d obviously been in the middle of before Rose had come in, about the state of the economy. Lada, it turned out, was in accounting. Rose didn’t have much to add to the discussion, so remained silent until Adge returned with her drink.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a tentative sip. Not bad at all. “So, Adge, what do you do?”

“I teach quisiarphology,” he replied. At Rose’s blank look, he explained, “The study of qui energy and its counter effects on the abstract at a physical level.”

“Erm, right,” Rose said, making a mental note to ask the Doctor to translate later.

“And yourself?”

Determined not to be embarrassed, Rose sat up a little straighter and tried to channel the Doctor’s gift with words. “I ... I’m part of a team that surveys and supports the channel of input and output with responsibility for ... retaining a level flow of productivity in the retail sector, and maintaining a relationship with cus—clients via impromptu and irregular communications requiring task management, erm, geographical navigation and, and people skills.”

Adge looked impressed, if a little confused, and Rose glowed with pride. Until Lada spoke up, breaking the spell. “I thought the Doctor said you stacked shelves at the supermarket?”

Rose shot the Doctor a death glare, and he flinched slightly. “I said it was temporary! Just till we both get settled in, I mean we’ve only just arrived. Going to take a while to get two careers flying.”

“That’s true,” Adge said. “Especially in the present climate; the job market is pretty thin at the moment. You probably got lucky, Rose, applying to the supermarket when you did. The only reason there was positions free was because of that incident two weeks ago.”

Rose frowned. “What incident?”

“You mean they haven’t told you? It was in the papers. Three staff members died of food poisoning after taking home deli leftovers.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, and Rose made a mental note to throw out the sausage.


	19. The Early Doodle-Bird

Rose groaned as the alarm clock pulled her out of Dreamland, and cursed the tradition of allocating early-morning shifts to the new workers. As if the change of day length was not enough to adjust to, the last time she had had to wake up for a set time was years ago.

Now awake, she realised she had a problem. The alarm was still merrily beeping, but she couldn’t reach it to turn it off, as it was next to the Doctor’s side of the bed. He was still sound asleep, one arm slung over her, which was preventing her from being able to even sit up. Rose knew that the Doctor, while not sleeping as much as her, was as impossible to wake as a corpse when he did sleep. After contemplating the problem, Rose spent several minutes wriggling out of his grip before climbing—none too gently—over him and finally managing to hit the alarm silent. The Doctor didn’t even stir.

Nursing the beginning of a headache, Rose showered quickly and returned to the kitchenette, where she found a flask of coffee and note on the bench: _Rose—breakfast in fridge._

In the fridge was a plate of scrambled eggs, labelled with instructions for heating them up. She shook her head, torn between amused and sympathetic. He must have been _really_ bored yesterday.

She’d forgotten to do another to-do list for him last night, and she wouldn’t have time now. Rose reheated and bolted her breakfast, resolving she wouldn’t worry. Not a bit. He’d be fine.

He wouldn’t work his way round the entire block with a hoover, would he?

Maybe he should take up paid cleaning. Lada and Adge had seemed quite happy with the quality of his splurge on their flat. It would be some extra money till a job suitable for him came up. Rose wondered what he’d have to say about that thought, and chuckled, deciding to raise the subject after she came back.

She cleared her plate and pulled on her coat, and then a mischievous grin spread over her face as she got an idea. She rummaged in his coat pocket till she found a permanent marker, and then outlined a pair of glasses around his eyes, drew a pair of cat’s whiskers and a little goatee on as well, and then on his forehead, the words _CLEAN ME_.

There, that should keep his boredom at bay for a few hours.


	20. Heads or Knickers

The moment had come.

The Doctor chewed his lip, staring at the carrier bag currently serving as their laundry basket. After a moment he peered inside. “I think it’s time we tried out the washing machine, Rose.”

“There can’t be that much in there, look it’s tiny.”

“It’s bigger on the inside,” he replied.

“Oh. How much bigger?”

“Big enough. I for one don’t want to run out of ... anything. So ... how are we going to do this?”

There was an awkward pause, neither wanting to be the one to volunteer to handle the other’s underwear.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Rose said at last. “We’re both grown-ups, we can be mature about this. We take turns, deal?”

“Deal.”

She pulled out a coin. “Let’s flip to see who goes first. Heads or tails?”

“Heads,” he said as she flipped it.

“Best of—”

“No,” the Doctor said firmly. “You get started on the laundry, I’ll go out and get us a proper basket to keep it in. Anything else we need?”

“Soap power, fabric softener and something to hang it all out on afterwards,” Rose said.

“Oh. Good idea.”

Rose sat down on the bed and picked up one of the Doctor’s books. “Go on then, best get a move on. The washing won’t soap itself.”

-

The Doctor was wondering how exactly he had ended up feeling like he had got the short straw, as he tried re-folding and unfolding the airer for the hundredth time. The laundry, already freshly washed by Rose, was waiting in a crumpled wet heap in the new basket while he struggled to make sense of the instructions.

“Where does this thing go?” He balanced a sort of flap in his hand, glaring at the row of holes that he was somehow supposed to fit another piece into.

“Need some help?”

“No,” he said with gritted teeth. Pride would not allow him to give into her smirk. “If I can bring down a Kazutan Empire with nothing but a compass and a bottle of milk, I can do this.”

“If you say so.” Rose stretched out on the bed, going back to her book—well, the Doctor’s book, one of the few that had been inside his pockets the day they’d lost the TARDIS.

The Doctor sighed, dropping the pieces and bringing the instructions right up to his face to make sure he was reading them correct. They were written in half a dozen different languages, and while the distant circuits were still translating with ease, the original wording was slightly wonky in each—meaning that each set of directions contradicted the others.

“I _can_ do this,” he muttered again, determinedly avoiding Rose’s eye.

“For goodness’ sake Doctor, it’s only an airer,” Rose said. “How would you fare with a flat pack dresser?”

“Good thing that’s not on the list then,” he muttered. “OW!” An attempt to pull apart two pieces he’d put together wrong had slipped and pinched his finger.

“Ready to admit defeat yet?”

“Rose, I’ve defeated Daleks and Cybermen and monsters from the deepest depths of the galaxy. I will not be outdone by a three-piece piece of plastic made for drying knickers.”

“I think you’ve got the main part upside-down.”

“Shut up.”

-

Two hours later, the Doctor looked at the time and sighed. It was late, and Rose was in bed, still watching his struggles in amusement.

“Rose.”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Could you give me a hand?” he mumbled.

Rose got out of bed, briefly glanced at the instructions, and stood the main part of the airer up correctly before slotting the two extensions easily into place, and headed back to bed. “You only had to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had the idea of recreating this fic, as an original story, in a blog. I’d always intended to use Em Yle in something original anyway, and I think I’ve had an idea how this might work. Obviously the characters would be different, and I’d take the plot in different directions, but I was wondering if anyone would be interested in reading it.


	21. Drawing on the Past

A week went by, and the Doctor spent his days completing the tasks on the to-do lists that Rose left behind for him whilst she worked, which were usually a mixture of sensible things that needed doing—like vacuuming the carpet—and things that had no point at all, such as making a giant card pyramid with the six packs of playing cards he had in his pockets. Some were even verging on the ridiculous, such as writing a census of all the spiders in the loft, including their exact size, the number of webs, and giving them all names.

He wasn’t stupid, he realised Rose was trying to keep him busy to help him from falling into total boredom, or worse, depression. And it did help, though what they were going to do with twenty daisy chains and a gingerbread house was beyond him.

When the next lot of newspapers came out, the Doctor bought a copy of every one and scoured the jobs sections. The neighbours were right; it looked like a tough climate out there. He hadn’t even seen anything remotely interesting. If he did, he probably stood a better chance than most at getting it, as long as he didn’t ‘show off’, as Rose had put it, in the interview. He wasn’t sure he understood that. Job interviews were about selling yourself, weren’t they? He was a genius, it would make sense to get that across.

Ah, well. He’d cross that bridge if he ever came to it.

He felt restless. Apart from the odd venture outside for some bizarre errand as instructed by his companion, he’d spent most of his time in the flat. He glanced at the latest list Rose had left for him, and decided to ignore it in favour of getting some fresh air and exercise. The Doctor picked up his keys, the local map, put on his coat and left.

There was a park slightly further out towards E section, and he walked round it for a while, before settling on a bench and taking out his sketchbook. It had been new shortly before losing the TARDIS, and the first few pages were sketches he’d made while still in his old life. He thumbed through them, taking in the alien landscapes, often with Rose somewhere in the picture, and a couple of close-up portraits of her in the TARDIS living room she hadn’t been aware he was making.

Despite Rose’s suggesting it a few days back, he hadn’t drawn since they’d been stranded. Although he could draw from memory, he preferred the subject in front of him, preferred to absorb himself in the environment. Well, he had only one environment now. Maybe he should practise drawing from memory.

The Doctor turned to a fresh page, took out a pencil, and after hesitating, began outlining a police box.

Strange, the TARDIS had been such a big part of his life—the biggest part—and yet he had never thought to draw it on its own. It had featured in the background often enough, and once he’d drawn Rose and Jack standing outside the doors, but he’d never dedicated a whole picture to it. Well, he was going to now, while he could still remember every detail.

The noises of the park dimmed; the Doctor became completely absorbed in his creation, the way he always did, as the TARDIS’ outside took form on the page. After this one, he resolved, he would draw the inside, which was just as beautiful and deserved its own representation in his sketchbook. Possibly several.

The lines flowed on the page; he carefully shaded and smudged where required; and finally came to focus on the finer details. The light on top—lit up, of course. And the words on the sign on the front: _Police Telephone. Free for use of public. Advice and assistance obtainable immediately. Officer and cars respond to all calls ..._

He paused.

Push to open? Pull to open?

Nearly nine centuries he’d travelled in that phone box. And now, barely a fortnight after being separated from her ... and he couldn’t even remember what the sign on her door said.

There were tears on his cheeks, he realised with a start. He had no idea how long they’d been there.


	22. Fallout

Rose’s phone went in the middle of her shift. She looked down at it, expecting to see ‘Mum’ on the screen. But the number was unfamiliar.

She nipped into the toilets and answered. “Hello?”

“Rose, was it push or pull?”

“Doctor! What are you doing, calling me in the middle of work? Wait, what?”

“On the front of the TARDIS,” he said. “The sign on her door. Did it say push or pull?”

“That’s what you called to ask?”

“I don’t remember.”

He sounded heartbroken. Rose closed her eyes. She’d hoped this moment wouldn’t come when she was at work. “I ... I think it said pull. Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was pull.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah. Remember, my mum commented on it once, ‘cause you always push.”

Well, pushed. Past tense now.

“Oh,” the Doctor said. “Yeah, I think I remember now. Thanks.”

“Doctor,” Rose said gently. “Are you okay?”

He sniffed. “Yeah. Fine.”

“Doctor. I could come home if you want, get Elsa to cover for me.”

“No, don’t do that,” he said. “I’m okay. Anyway, I’m not at the flat, I’m in the park. Drawing.”

“Oh,” Rose said, surprised. “Well ... good. What are you drawing?”

There was a pause. “The TARDIS.”

Rose bit her lip. Was that good or not?

“You can show me when I get back,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “My shift finishes at fourteen, so I’ll be home just after that, okay?”

“Okay.”

Rose pocketed her phone, thinking. Maybe she should go back anyway. It was a difficult decision.

When she exited the toilet, deep in thought, Elsa spotted her and hurried over.

“Rose?” She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “I saw you take that call. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Rose said. “Everything’s fine.”

“You’re crying.”

“What?” Rose reached up, and felt a tear on her cheek. “Oh. No, I’m okay, really. I’m just worried about my companion.”

“Seems your default setting,” Elsa commented, handing her a hanky.

“Thanks. And this is different from before.”

“How so?”

“I think he’s about to have a breakdown. I saw it coming since we arrived here, he’s been acting like everything’s fine all this time but I knew at some point—” Rose’s voice broke.

“Go home, Rose,” Elsa said firmly.

-

“Doctor?”

The flat was empty.

Rose told herself not to panic. He was probably still out drawing. He hadn’t said a time he’d be back.

She waited, unable to focus on anything other than worrying. Dinnertime came, and after searching the fridge for something already cooked that didn’t exist, she opened up a tin of meat and ate it with a chunk of bread. She wanted to be able to drop it at a moment’s notice once the Doctor came in.

Dinnertime passed, and it was dusk. Surely he’d be back by now, he couldn’t draw in this light.

Rose tried redial again, but the phone wouldn’t connect. He must have used a public one. They really needed to get a second phone.

He’d said he was in a park. But which one?

-

“There you go, Mrs Tyler.”

“It’s Miss,” Rose corrected.

“Sorry, Ms Tyler.”

She didn’t bother to correct the officer again as she took the tea. “Thank you.”

“We’ve put out a description,” DI Gasham said. “Strictly speaking we can’t classify him as a missing person for another eight hours, but—”

“Look, I wouldn’t normally worry, he can take care of himself fine mostly,” Rose said. “But when he last spoke to me he was upset, depressed even, and I knew at some point there’d be fallout from losing the TARDIS. It wasn’t just a ship, it’s been his home most of his life. I’m scared that right now he’s not thinking straight.”

“Yes, so you’ve said. Three times,” Gasham muttered. “As I was trying to say, since taking into account the circumstances, we’ve begun the search, starting with the parks in the area. Don’t worry, we’ll find him. We have the best track record for missing persons in Slogv.”

“You’d better,” Rose said. “Or you’ll have to answer to my mother.”


	23. Salt Water

A hand on his shoulder jerked the Doctor awake; only then did he realise he’d dozed off again. He shook his head, trying to wake himself up, and a voice spoke next to him. “Dr Tyler?”

“Yeah?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

As he spoke, there was a shout of “DOCTOR!” and he was suddenly engulphed in blonde hair.

“Your companion was quite worried about you,” said the first voice, its owner drawing aside to let them have a moment.

“Rose,” he murmured, clutching her as close as he could.

“You idiot,” she said softly, burying her face in his shoulder. “You realise I had the police out looking for you.”

“Sorry.”

For a long time they just hugged, before Rose gently drew back to look at him properly.

“This was not the way I envisioned our first visit to the seaside,” she said with a small laugh, brushing sand off his shoulder. Despite the humour, she looked exhausted, and he realised he must look worse. “What did you come out here for?”

“Dunno,” he said. “I didn’t plan it; I just sort of wandered around and ended up on the beach.”

“You scared me. I thought I was losing you.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”

-

They returned to the flat more or less in silence, arriving well after midnight. Rose had just held the Doctor’s hand the whole way, knowing that she couldn’t do more till he decided to open up to her.

She hadn’t eaten properly, and figured he probably hadn’t eaten anything, so paused after exiting the bus. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Not hungry,” he mumbled. “You get something if you want.”

Rose shook her head, deciding just to have a piece of fruit or something before she went to sleep, and they headed up. She changed into her pyjamas in the bathroom, and came out to find the Doctor still fully dressed, sitting on the mattress staring into space.

“Doctor?” she said gently, placing a light hand on his shoulder.

“Rose, the TARDIS is gone.” He swallowed, and she saw his eyes were wet.

“I’d been wondering when this would happen.” She sat down beside him and grasped his hand in both her own, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb.

“She was always there,” he continued, in a half-strangled voice. “Always, after everyone else had gone; died or left me. But now she’s gone.” A choked sigh. “I can still feel her. Out of reach. Not forever, without a pilot she’ll just shut down eventually. She’ll die alone, the last TARDIS of Gallifrey.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor.” There was nothing more she could say.

The Doctor turned to look at her. “Rose.”

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay with me?”

She stared at him, slightly taken aback. “Of course.”

“‘Cause I know this isn’t exactly the life you signed up for, stuck here ...”

She put a finger on his lips. “Doctor, stop. I’m staying with you, end of story.”

He pulled her into a hug that was, if possible, even tighter than the one they’d shared at the police station. “I don’t think I could stand being totally alone,” he murmured in her ear.

“You won’t be. I’m here. I’m here, Doctor.” Rose rubbed his back and kissed his shoulder. “I may not be made of blue wood or be able to speak infinite languages, but you’ve got me anyway.”

The humour worked; he managed a tiny chuckle. “Promise?”

“Promise. You couldn’t get rid of me if you wanted to.”

“Never,” he vowed.

The time for conversation passed; they just held each other until the sky was starting to lighten. The Doctor lay down with his head cradled in Rose’s arms and they both dozed lightly until the alarm went off.

-

“How’s your companion?” Elsa asked two days later.

Rose nodded. “Better. Thanks for covering.”

“It’s no problem, moving planet has got to be a trying time for anyone. I understand.”

Moving planet was the least of it, Rose thought, but kept it to herself and continued working. Losing the TARDIS … adopting a mundane life … it was no wonder he hadn’t cracked before now. She suppressed a sigh, hoping now the inevitable outburst had occurred, the way was paved for some kind of emotional healing.

What he needed, she thought not for the first time, was a distraction. The only thing Rose could think of was finding him a job.

“Elsa?”

“Yes?”

“Know of any jobs available, suitable for a not-very-modest genius?”


	24. A Disrupted Routine

It was weird, after all the time he’d spent being dismissive of domestic life, how quickly it had become natural; they had fallen into a daily routine. Rose’s shift times varied, but usually she got up first, got ready while the Doctor prepared breakfast, and he washed and dressed after she’d left before beginning on whatever tasks she’d left him to do. It was becoming second nature.

Today, however, was a little different.

The Doctor winced as he cut himself again and pressed a wad of tissue to his chin. He hated Cogodian razors; he missed his old one.

Rose said something from the studio room, but he couldn’t make it out. “What?”

“I said, I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask Elsa before,” she called.

He examined the nick; it was shallow and had stopped bleeding already. It wasn’t too noticeable either. Good. The last thing he wanted was to walk into a job interview with a plaster on his face—not the best first impression.

“Are you nearly done in there?”

“Not yet,” he replied, pasting up his toothbrush.

“You’re taking forever.”

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered, not having the courage to say so in Rose’s hearing. It was the first time they had both needed to leave the flat at the same time in the morning, and sharing a bathroom was proving a new, and not enjoyable, experience.

“Hurry up, I need to clean my teeth.”

“Well so do I!”

“Are you decent?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m coming in,” Rose said, walking into the bathroom.

The Doctor turned, realising only after her eyes had widened that he still had his toothbrush half in his mouth and, worse still, he could feel a trickle of toothpaste running down his chin. Rose burst out laughing, and after a moment of uncertainty, he joined in, accidentally spraying the wall, which just made Rose laugh more. He hurriedly rinsed and dried and gave her a pointed stare. “Quite finished?”

“Nope, haven’t even started yet,” she said, reaching for the pink toothbrush. “Move over, you’re hogging the mirror.”

“So remind me,” the Doctor said, grudgingly moving over a little, “who is this guy I’d be working for?”

“Elsa’s cousin. But there’s no guarantee they’ll hire you, she was only able to pull enough strings for an interview.”

“Right.” The Doctor finished towelling his hair and took out his comb. “Remind me to thank Elsa when I meet her.”

“If you get the job?”

“Even if I don’t.”

He left Rose to it and dressed, unusually nervous. The job Elsa had pointed Rose to was at a research facility, which did everything from disease cures to checking commercial products. He was amazed Elsa had managed to swing him an interview without any proof of scientific qualifications—he wondered what Rose had said to her. He should probably check before he left.

Talking of which, he needed his entry papers. Where were they?

“Rose, where are my papers?”

“On the table, where you left them.”

“I don’t see them.”

“Try looking under the gadget … thing.”

The Doctor lifted up the communicator prototype he’d just started putting together from scraps from the electronics recycling centre two roads away. “Ah! Found them!”

Rose had given him a list of do’s and don’ts (mainly the latter). Don’t ramble being one of them. Don’t talk at a hundred miles an hour, don’t reference being at past or future events, or tell any stories about his travels, don’t declare himself cleverer than the interviewer, don’t use too many long words, don’t use the words ‘Time Lord’ if asked his species …

The last one he understood; it did sound a little high-and-mighty—not that he would ever admit it out loud—and he was trying to blend in more now than when they travelled together. It was why he had had ‘Gallifreyan’ put on his official papers. Both were correct, it was a question of connotations.

“Now remember,” Rose said, coming back out of the bathroom, “You don’t have any references or anything like that like other applicants will. You’ll have to wow them on the interview alone.”

“I thought you were telling me to reign in my genius?” the Doctor said, confused.

“I said don’t show off; there’s a difference between showing you’re smart and showing off. You tend towards the latter. No-one wants to work with a show-off. You need to be smart, but humble. Can you do that?”

There was a long silence.

“I’ll do my best,” the Doctor promised.

-

The Doctor was told to sit down in the waiting area, and handed a clipboard.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s an aptitude test. We ask all applicants to complete them before the interview. Take your time.”

He hid a grin; piece of cake. He rattled through the first three questions, but paused on the fourth, stumped. That didn’t make sense at all. Would correcting the question be classed as showing off?


	25. Interview With a Time--Oops, Gallifreyan

“Right this way, Dr Tyler.”

The Doctor did a slight double-take at the name, and as he sat down in the interview room, he stole a glance at the entry papers in the interviewer’s hands, just enough to glimpse the name ‘Tyler’ somewhere on there. Ah. That explained a lot.

Oh, well. He could think of worse surnames to have ended up with. Actually, he kind of liked it. It felt more real than ‘Smith’, anyhow. He brought himself forcefully back to the present before he started wondering what Rose would think when she found out they now shared the same surname.

The interviewer, a man by the name of Dr Starle, began by asking him about his scientific background, and the Doctor answered as honestly as he could—graduated second only to one other student at The Academy (which sounded less impressive since he was banned from using the words ‘Time Lord’), years of what he decided to call ‘independent research’, his early jobs on Gallifrey before he got bored (not that he mentioned the bored part), and he managed to throw out a few famous names he’d worked with, trying to limit himself to recent ones.

At one point, Starle frowned, and the Doctor hesitated mid-sentence. “Er, something wrong?”

“Tyler, how old are you?”

“Um,” the Doctor said, wondering if he was allowed to answer this one honestly. The question hadn’t come up yet on Em Yle; he hadn’t even been asked upon their entrance. He decided maybe honesty was the best approach here. “Nine hundred and two.”

There was a long silence, Starle staring at him, before finally saying, “I see. If it’s not a personal question, might I ask, what is the average life span of a …” he checked the Doctor’s papers. “Gallifreyan?”

“Um, don’t know. It’s never been calculated,” the Doctor replied. “Too many variants.”

“Right.” There was an awkward pause. “Carry on.”

Now that was out there, he was able to name a few more famous names without raising eyebrows, and finally the interview moved on. He was asked to prove his knowledge in various areas, which he did quite happily and tried not to appear too smug when he saw how much Starle was trying not to look impressed.

A short silence fell while Starle scribbled in his notes, and the Doctor felt a bit more relaxed. He was acing this, he could tell. Why had he been so worried? Why had Rose been so worried?

“So,” Starle said, jerking him out of his inner glow, “You mentioned you used to travel a lot. Could you give some more details?”

The Doctor couldn’t see the relevance, but decided not to comment. “All right. I used to spend my life travelling all over the universe. My ship could go pretty much anywhere, it’s quite … advanced technology.”

“So … any particular reason why you’re in one place now?”

The Doctor swallowed. “I lost my ship. Travelling without her just—isn’t the same. My companion and I made the decision to settle down, here.”

Starle nodded. “I’m sorry about your ship. But you have to understand, I have a responsibility to make sure I’m not hiring an employee who will take off for the next galaxy with no notice.”

“I understand. You don’t have to worry about that with me.”

More notes. “And final question … why do you want to work for NexCorp?”

The Doctor hesitated, thinking. “Um … I like a challenge?”

-

“So how did it go?” Rose asked when she got home.

“I’m … not sure.”

“Did you show off?”

“I don’t think so.” The Doctor decided not to mention the corrections to the aptitude test. “Dr Starle said I’ll know by the end of the week. I think he liked me.”

“That’s great!” Rose hugged him. “Let’s do something this week. Together, I mean; something to celebrate.”

“Funny you should say that. You know it’s Rain Day this weekend?”

“Er … I heard someone mention it at work. Didn’t like to ask—what is it?”

“The last day of spring,” the Doctor answered. “Here in Cogodia, there’s a holiday with every change of season, traditionally to bid goodbye to the passing season and welcome the new one. It’s quite a festival, we should definitely go.”

“Why’s it called Rain Day, if it’s welcoming the summer?”

“It’s not welcoming the summer. We’re due to start the monsoon. Summer comes after that. Rain Day is the last dry day.”

Rose pouted. “Not liking the sound of a monsoon so much.”

The Doctor chuckled. “It’s not so bad. And followed by tropical weather, so you can’t complain.”

“Well if it’s about to get rainy on us, I say we head to the beach now. The weather’s mild enough, and I can’t wait till the summer. I’ve got the whole weekend off; which day is Rain Day?”

It had taken Rose a while to learn the days of the week—there were ten of them, the last three making up the weekend. The week seemed long, though if the days hadn’t been significantly shorter than she was used to then it would seem a lot longer.

“Funday.”

“So, we go to the beach the day before, on Giday.”

The Doctor grinned. “Good plan.”


	26. Treat in the Sun

The next afternoon when Rose arrived back at the flat, she was greeted by delicious smells wafting through the room.

“How was your morning?” The Doctor asked, poking his head around the corner to greet her.

“Same old. Mm, what’s that smell?”

“Lunch. Hope you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Nope.” Rose shooed him back into the kitchenette and started getting changed out her uniform, pausing halfway through taking her top off. “What’s that on the table? No, don’t look!”

“It’s a picnic basket.”

“How’d you get a picnic basket?” Rose said in astonishment, half-muffled through her clothes. “Don’t tell me you had it stashed in a pocket somewhere.”

“Don’t be silly. No, I borrowed it from the neighbours.”

“The Mojofixxes?”

“No, Rane Cambo, the other side. Don’t think you’ve met yet.”

Rose finished changing and hovered. The Doctor looked round at her. “Rose, you’ll have to be patient if you want your drumsticks crispy.”

“Ooh, drumsticks. What’s the occasion?”

“Well, you were saying about making the most of the rain-free weather,” the Doctor said. “It’s a beautiful day out, I thought it would be nice to take a picnic to the park.”

He was right; the weather was perfect spring weather, warm but not too hot with a welcome breeze. They wandered round the paths for a while before settling in the sun and the Doctor unpacked the basket.

Up until that point Rose had just made do with a sandwich at lunchtimes—she didn’t know what the Doctor normally had. But today he’d outdone himself.

“Wow, what a spread. Did you make all this?”

“No, just the drumsticks and the salad. The rest I got ready-made from the market.”

The drumsticks, he assured her, were cooked to an authentic Cogodian recipe from a book he’d bought at the market, and were delicious, a mild flavour and not too greasy. He had also packed pastry wraps filled with boiled eggs and spiced meat, herby fayn crisps, mixed pickled vegetables, two cheeses—one hard, one soft—relish, pate, a small loaf of bread, cartons of zonberry juice and a colourful garden salad. Rose could spot cucumber, but had no idea what the other vegetables were. A leafy yellow one, small round deep purple things, something that turned out to be mini sweet green peppers that tasted slightly smoky, and edible flowers.

“What’s the pate?”

“Don’t know.” The Doctor sniffed it. “Fishy. With a hint of …” he tasted some. “Sweet and sour. Never had anything like it. It’s good, try it Rose.”

“And the pickles?” Rose looked dubiously at the colourless vinegary lumps.

“Not a clue, but I tried a sample, they’re good.”

“What’s lumn?” she asked, looking at the relish: _caramelised shallot, pepper and lumn_.

“A fruit, I think.”

Conversation was sporadic as they munched; Rose only stopped when she thought she would burst and lay down on her back, looking up at the sky. “I can’t eat another thing.”

“Full?”

“Stuffed.”

“No room for pudding then?” The Doctor said with a wicked grin

Rose sat up. “You’ve got pudding?”

He laughed. “Cogodian chocolate. Want to try some?”

“What’s it like?”

“Dark and quite sweet. Sweeter than the dark chocolate you’d be used to. I got a bar with fruit and nut in.”

“Wow.” Rose had no idea what the fruits or nuts were, but she liked them. The nuts were slightly salty, balancing the sweetness of the chocolate. “That’s good. Wish I could manage a second piece but if I eat any more I’ll explode.”

“Better not, then.” The Doctor wrapped up the rest. “Save it for tomorrow.”

“It won’t last long in our place,” Rose said with a giggle. “I forbid you from polishing it off behind my back.”

“As if I would!”

He lay down too, and somehow Rose’s head came to rest on his chest. He didn’t protest.

Full and very sleepy, Rose dozed for a long while before she felt her makeshift pillow move under her, waking her up. “Mngh.”

“Sorry,” the Doctor’s voice said next to her ear. “We should get moving.”

“Why?” Rose mumbled, but was answered as a ball, kicked with no degree of accuracy, flew past her so close to her nose that she felt the draft.

“’Cause the kids are staring a game, and we’re in the middle of the pitch,” the Doctor said, somewhat unnecessarily.

“’L’right, I’ll move,” Rose said, stretching and slowly sitting up, pushing her hair off her face. “’N one condition.”

“Which is?”

“Never let me eat that much again.”


	27. Making a Splash

Rose emerged from the bathroom in her new swimming costume. “Have you seen my beach dress?”

“Beach … dress?” the Doctor said blankly, trying not to stare.

“Yeah. The pink one.”

“I …” He tore his eyes away. “I see a pink cloth.”

“That’s it!” Rose wrapped it around her and fastened it on one shoulder with a gold clip. “Do I look decent enough for the bus?”

“Uh, yep.” The Doctor swung the towel bag over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”

Rose slipped her feet daintily into a pair of sandals. “Allons-y!” she said with a giggle.

-

They got a few funny looks on the bus, but Rose didn’t care. When she caught her first glimpse of the sea, she nearly gave herself concussion from the window in her effort to see out. It was beautiful; the suns were casting light at such an angle that it looked encrusted with diamonds.

“It’s definitely safe to swim, right?” she questioned the Doctor as they lay their towels out on soft, red-orange sand. “I don’t see anyone in the water.”

“Probably because it’s not traditional beach weather,” he replied. “The guidebook says it’s safe.”

“Race you to the water?”

“Hold on!” the Doctor caught her arm before she could rush off. “Sun lotion first; it’s easier to burn out here than you think.”

Rose flopped onto a towel and pulled the new tube out of the bag. “You’ll have to help me, then. With my back,” she clarified. “I can’t reach the middle.”

“Of course.”

It was quite relaxing, the feel of his hands gently massaging lotion into her skin. Rose could almost have fallen asleep in his arms, but all too soon he stopped. “All done.”

As they both rubbed cream into their arms, something occurred to Rose. “Did you hear back about the job yet?”

He bit his lip, and her heart sank. “I did—I didn’t want to ruin today …”

“Doctor, just tell me.”

“No, I didn’t get it.”

“Did they say why?”

“I asked. The problem is that there are only two records of my existence on this planet—the first being our entry, and the second being a missing persons report that has me described as—what was the wording?—mentally unstable.”

“What!” Rose dropped the lotion.

“What exactly did you say to the police?” the Doctor asked.

“I said I thought you were depressed and I was worried about you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I did explain the context, but nothing doing—it’s in writing, therefore it’s official. And since it was recent, I didn’t have much of a chance convincing them I was stable now.”

Rose sighed. “Does that mean you won’t be able to get a job?”

He shrugged. “Might depend on the job.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to muck that up.”

“Hey, you did the right thing. For which I’m grateful. Anyway …” the Doctor wiped his hands off on a towel. “It’s just a job, let’s not let it spoil today. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Rose stood up, finished as well. “So, what about that race?”

The job was forgotten as, with childish cat-calls, the two ran down the sand to the water. Rose shrieked as she plunged into the cold waves; she missed her footing as the ground fell away and she fell in head-first.

The Doctor was laughing as she surfaced. “You’re the one who was desperate to come.”

Rose stuck her tongue out, and immediately wished she hadn’t as the salt attacked it. Instead, she picked up a handful of slimy seaweed and threw it at the Doctor, who let out a yelp as it splatted onto his bare chest. “Oy!”

He splashed her, but it was her turn to laugh—she was already wet. “You’re gonna regret that, mate.” He yelped again as she tackled him, pulling him down into the water with her.


	28. A Tale of Two Castles

Dried off and starting to shiver, Rose watched the waves lapping from her towel. Em Yle was a fairly beautiful planet; she had seen more spectacular ones, but it definitely rivalled Earth. She was thinking of all the beaches they’d been to; some they’d swum in, others that weren’t swimmable but still beautiful to visit. The concept of never exploring a new planet again was still sinking in.

Well, maybe they still could. Take trips via shuttle, like everyone else did in this time. But for the time being, they were staying in one place. It still felt strange.

The Doctor interrupted her thoughts. “I come bearing food,” he said. “Had to walk quite a way to get it, most places are closed this time of year, so hope it was worth it.”

“Whatcha got?”

“Fish and chips, Cogodia style.” He settled on the sand with three card boxes, which he placed in between them. “The choice was crab or madstik, so I got both, we can share.”

“What’s madstik?”

“A yellow fish, quite strong.” The Doctor opened up the bigger boxes, revealing one full of chips, one containing two kinds of deep-fried shapes, and pointed to the two long strips. “It’s done rolled in seed batter and deep fried. Really quite nice.”

“And the crab?” Rose examined the smaller pieces carefully.

“Crab claws, bit like you get in Chinese sometimes, they’re a more delicate flavour. Crab’s quite common round here, there’s a lot of rock pools, so crab’s often on the menu.”

“And what’s in there?” Rose pointed at the last box, smaller than the others.

“Glanire.” He opened the lid. “Seaweed, for me, though you can have some if you want to try it again.”

“Think I’ll pass, thanks all the same.”

He grinned and popped a few strands of seaweed in his mouth. Rose tried one of the chips, certified it very good, and picked up a crab claw. “Wow, that’s nice.”

-

After eating, they began digging around in the sand with the spades and buckets the Doctor had visited several shops to find the previous day. Rose began building a sandcastle, and the Doctor copied her, turning it into a race to see who could build the biggest before the tide came in. Rose was winning—probably because hers was quite a solid standard four-wall structure whereas the Doctor kept trying to add funny turrets, which frequently crumbled and fell off.

“We don’t have any flags,” Rose said with a pout. “I wanna stick something in the tower.”

“What about a stick?”

“It’s a beach, not a forest.”

“Bit of driftwood then.”

“See any?”

“Nope.”

“You’re not even looking.”

“No,” the Doctor agreed. “I’m mending my fortress. Your castle, you decorate it yourself.”

“Fortress indeed,” Rose snorted, and walked away in search of something to make a flag with. The Doctor waited till her back was turned before digging a tunnel underneath her tower, and spreading the sand on the outside so it was invisible, then returned to trying to rescue his own structure, whistling innocently.

Rose returned with a stick of driftwood and a bit of seaweed to make a flag, and the moment she pushed the end into the tower, it crumbled and she let out a cry. “No! How’s that happen?”

The Doctor carefully avoided her eye, but it did him no good as, a moment later, a lump of wet sand plummeted onto his back so hard it stung. “OW! Rose!”

“That’s for sabotaging my castle, cheat!”

He grabbed a handful of sand from his own moat and threw it at her, hitting her on the arm. “Ow!”

“See, that hurts,” he said, the smug look wiped from his face when Rose childishly kicked his sandcastle. “Hey!”

“You started it!”

He proceeded to jump onto hers, igniting a wrestling match as both attempted to shield their castles from attack whilst simultaneously trying to sabotage the other’s.

Once the waves were eating away at what remained of their masterpieces, they made peace, washed the sand from their limbs, rolled up their towels and strolled along the top of the sand, only leaving the beach entirely once the sea was lapping round their ankles. Rose gave a satisfied sigh and bid a fond goodbye to the sparkling green-blue water, and they headed back to the city.

“That was fun,” she said on the bus, her head leaning on the Doctor’s shoulder. “Promise we’ll come back when the rainy season’s over?”

“It’ll be busy then.”

“Pretty please?”

He grinned. “Can’t say no, can I?”

“‘Course not, I won all the races today. You owe me.”


	29. Rain Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! So sorry, my mistake, I accidentally posted the previous chapter again. All updated now! Sorry again.

Rain Day arrived. Despite her misgivings on the impending weather, Rose had been quite looking forward to it. She’d been to lots of different kinds of festivals and celebrations, but this would be the first alien one she’d be attending as more than a passing visitor.

The Doctor was already up, dressed in his best, which nowadays consisted of a duck egg blue shirt made out of a material that felt like silk to the touch, a soft cotton beige blazer/jacket, the tie he’d been wearing when they arrived, and darker blue cotton trousers. It was remarkably similar to what the native men wore, only they tended not to wear ties.

“You look nice,” Rose said appreciatively as she got up. “Is it formal dress?”

“Not formal, per se, but dress up,” he replied.

Up until that point, Rose had been living in jeans. The clothes in Cogodia, from a human perspective, seemed like a mesh of Indian and Western, combining silk, denim (or similar materials, Rose wasn’t sure which) and soft light material that came either opaque, like her beach dress, or semi-transparent.

Her jeans, other than her original ones from Earth, were made of denim down to the knee, and from there turned into silk. She’d found them comfortable, and wore them with the long embroidered tops with puff sleeves that seemed to be the everyday fashion.

Today, though, she should be more adventurous. The dresses she had looked like pieces of cloth with too many corners, and wrapped around the body a certain way, fastened with golden clips. She picked a bright blue one in two parts, the skirt of which flowed down to the knee, and added a semi-transparent shawl, which sparkled.

“How do I look?” she said, giving the Doctor a little twirl as she exited the bathroom. “Have I done it right?”

His mouth hung open for a minute before he closed it hurriedly. “Yes! Yes, you look … perfect.”

-

The celebrations were in the main streets of Slojv; it seemed as if the whole city had turned out. According to the Doctor, most of them probably had; only those running emergency services were working today.

For all the Yle’s lack of colour in their clothing, it was more than made up for in the elaborate decorations. The closed roads were lined with stalls and stages; performers, like jugglers and fire-eaters, were everywhere; crowds and choirs were singing unfamiliar songs of passing seasons. Every now and then the crowds parted for a procession; brightly coloured costumes, large puppets, groups of dancers. Rose’s neck began to ache from the way she kept turning her head to look here and there.

The Doctor found her hand and pulled her along; they found a spot further uphill to watch the performers. The crowds ooh-ed and gasped as a rope of fire, glowing an eerie green-gold, twisted in patterns in the air.

“How do they do that?” Rose said in the Doctor’s ear, watching the performers on the stage.

He gave a string of techno-babble, paused, and corrected himself. “Lots of wires and fuel that burns green.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He handed her something wrapped in greaseproof paper which he had somehow managed to pick up from a stall in the chaos. “Hungry?”

The celebrations lasted all day and well into the night. Performers came and went, including several magicians who didn’t pull a single rabbit out of a hat, but staged great elaborate season-themed tricks which had the crowds shouting for more. The Doctor offered to explain to Rose how they did them, but she refused—why spoil the magic?

Singers with beautiful voices, more dancing, and more lightshows. This time Rose didn’t question the mechanics, just enjoyed it.

When sunset came, the Doctor tugged on Rose’s hand and led her further into the park, uphill; away from the crowds and the celebrations, they climbed the hill and settled on the grass on the top, away from the noise.

“Wow,” Rose said, looking down. “What a view.”

From where they sat they could see half the city centre, breaking out in lights like stars in the sky. The orange sun cast a gold and pink haze over the land and reflected brightly off the glass in the red stone buildings. Rose could just make out the glittering sea in the distance, and the scene was framed by wind turbines, turning gracefully in the evening breeze.

“It is beautiful,” the Doctor agreed. “I’d never take you to an ugly planet, Rose. Not intentionally,” he added as an afterthought.

“I think I feel at home.”

He looked round at her. “I mean, not like _home_ home; when someone says home I still think of the TARDIS, and mum’s flat. But … I think I could get used to it here.”

The Doctor didn’t say anything in response, but his hand found hers as the fireworks started.


	30. Kid in a Coffee Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the mess-up with the last chapter. It's all correct now so you can go back and read the one that SHOULD have been posted!

Rose jerked awake, blinking in the dark. After a moment, she realised she could hear a pitter-patter of rain on the window. She sighed and closed her eyes again.

There was a slight movement next to her. “Rose, you awake?” the Doctor whispered.

“Mm. Rain woke me.” She moaned softly as the Doctor slid out of bed, pulling the covers off her shoulders. “What you doin’?”

“Forgot to close the shutters. Go back to sleep, Rose.”

“Mmn.”

She must have dozed off again, because the next thing she knew the alarm was merrily beeping. She turned over, intending to lean over the Doctor as usual to turn it off, but it stopped on its own.

Rose rubbed her eyes. “Doctor?”

“Morning,” he said, looking up from his book. “Sleep well?”

“I’ve had worse.”

It was still trickling down with rain outside. It wasn’t till now Rose realised this was the first rain she’d experienced since their arrival. The weather was clearly more regular than back in England.

The flat wasn’t cold, despite one of the windows being slightly open. Rose had always wondered why the windows opened inward; now, with the shutters closed, it made sense.

“Oh, I don’t wanna go out in this,” she sighed. “I don’t have an umbrella—unless of course, you have one hidden away in your pockets?”

“Nope, but I don’t think you’ll need one. Slojv’s drainage system is pretty impressive.”

Rose didn’t quite understand what he meant by that, but didn’t argue as she started getting ready for work. “Are you going to be all right, Doctor?”

“Huh?”

“Nobody deserves to sit here all day listening to rain.”

“I’ll be fine, Rose. No worse than any other day.”

She looked at him closely, not believing him. The prospect of maybe never finding something to do was getting to him, she was sure; he was just trying not to show it. “Come to work with me.”

“Is that allowed?”

“There’s a coffee shop in the supermarket; you can sit in there and read or something, and I’ll get my friends to chat to you during their breaks.”

He considered this. “I suppose … it does beat sitting here listening to rain all day. Alone.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Might get expensive though if I did it every time you worked.”

“Doctor, sod the money for one day; we can worry about that tomorrow. Come on, get out the flat for a while, I think you need a change of scenery.”

He grinned. “It’s a deal.”

-

When they stepped outside, Rose saw what the Doctor had meant about the drainage system; all the buildings had canopies that stretched the width of the pavement, protecting the pedestrians from the rain. The Doctor explained how it was designed so the rainwater was directed out of the urban areas via man-made channels, filling tanks which then provided water for the rest of the year, and how any overflow went out towards rivers and the sea.

“Does it ever flood?”

“Only during very bad years; usually it’s good enough.”

They walked to the supermarket together, hand in hand. Rose tried not to wonder what she’d do with the Doctor tomorrow, and just enjoy his company now.

Before he settled in the coffee shop, Rose took him round the tills, looking for her friends to introduce them. “Morning Elsa!”

“Morning, Rose!” Elsa looked up from where she was counting out bags of change. “And … this would be your companion, I’m guessing?” She looked hard at the Doctor.

“How do you do, I’m the Doctor,” he said, offering his hand. Elsa shook it with, it seemed, great reluctance.

“Elsa Finch. I’ve heard a lot about you, Doctor.” For some reason, there was almost a coldness in her voice.

He grinned. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Thought you were going to try being more modest?”

“I am being more modest,” he insisted.

“Hmph. Didn’t sound like it.”

“That reminds me—thank you so much for setting up the interview, Elsa. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” she said shortly. The Doctor frowned slightly. She didn’t like him, he could tell. It stung a little that she didn’t even know him. What had Rose been saying about him? Obviously it can’t have been that complimentary. “Is there some reason you’re here today?”

He shrugged. “Needed a change of scenery. Rose said I could wait for her in the coffee shop.”

“That’s all right, isn’t it, Elsa?” Rose checked.

“Should be, as long as he’s a paying customer. Hang on a sec, it’s probably still locked, I’ll open it up for you.”

“Thanks.”

The Doctor found a squashy sofa in a corner and jumped onto it, looking embarrassed when Rose gave him a ‘you’re not in the TARDIS living room now’ glare. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “We don’t have a sofa at home. Rose, we need to get a sofa.”

“I’ll put it on the list. Now you sit there, and behave.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he gave a mini salute.

“You sound like you’re talking to a child,” Elsa commented as they left the Doctor to his book.

“Believe me,” Rose said, “I am.”


	31. Sweets and Snogging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had a couple of reviews wondering why Elsa doesn’t like the Doctor. Um, if you go back and read Double Standards (Chapter 16), might refresh your memory …

“Here you are … Doctor. One large cappuccino.”

“Thank you …” He peered at her name badge. “Naradi.”

She smiled flirtatiously. “You’re welcome. Enjoy.”

He returned to what he now thought of as ‘his’ sofa, and picked up his book again.

-

“Rose, have you seen what your companion’s doing?”

“Not since I last looked in on him. Why?”

Her question was answered as she entered the coffee shop. It was virtually empty save for one table, which about a dozen customers were crammed around. Someone—Rose was sure she knew who—had bought several bags of jelly sweets, and the group were playing cards with them.

“Doctor.” Rose strode over and tugged his sleeve. “What are you doing?”

“I’d have thought it was obvious,” he said in surprise. “I’m two kings and a cola bottle away from the jackpot. What’s up?”

“What happened to the plan to read quietly?”

“I finished my book. Three times. There’s only so many times you can read something in one day without getting bored of it. Anyway, you know I can’t sit quietly on my own for long. Why? I’m not doing anything wrong am I?”

Rose looked up at the counter. The servers were watching in interest, unsure whether or not they should be telling them off. Naradi, on the till, shrugged at her.

“I don’t think so. Just keep the noise down, and make sure you don’t sit here forever taking up space without buying drinks, or the manager will get annoyed.”

“Okay. See you later.” He put a card face-down in the middle and said, “Sour button.”

“Snake,” the person next to him said, placing another down.

“That’s me!” someone else said. “I’ve got the ace. I win!” Rose heard the others all groan as she made her way out.

-

The game eventually broke up. Kazzar’s shift ended and he went back to his till, and the other customers went back to their tables or went home. The Doctor tried to return to his sofa, and was very annoyed when he found a young couple snogging on it.

“Oy, give over, I was sitting there.”

The guy surfaced for air just long enough to say, “You move, you lose it mate.”

Oh, well. There were other sofas. He looked around; there were four in the shop, one in each corner, and one was still free—but with sinking hearts, he spotted some businessman heading towards it with a tray.

The Doctor was further away, but shot towards the sofa at a hundred miles an hour, determined to get there first. Unfortunately, in his hurry he failed to see: a) someone’s chair leg sticking out, and b) Naradi returning to the counter from clearing the tables.

His foot hit the chair leg, and he went flying, straight into Naradi. They topped to the ground, the tray of empty cups crashing on the floor. Everyone looked round at the sound of breaking china to see the Doctor, lying awkwardly on top of her.

“S-sorry,” the Doctor stammered, his face growing hot. “I-I didn’t see—I’m sorry!”

“It’s all right, I forgive you,” Naradi said breathlessly. “Um … Doctor?”

“Mm?”

“I’d like to stand up again now, you couldn’t …?”

“Oh!” The Doctor went redder still as he realised he hadn’t moved off of her, and quickly rectified that. “Sorry. Again.”

“That’s all right.”

“I’ll pay for the broken cups.”

“Really, it’s fine.” Naradi brushed herself down and picked up the tray; the Doctor knelt and helped pick up the china pieces.

“You’ve got coffee on you,” he said, noticing the brown patch on her uniform’s collar. There must have been some dregs in one of the cups.

“So have you. Oh … it’s all over your shirt.”

The Doctor, surprised, looked down. He hadn’t noticed the wet patch on his chest. While the stain on hers was barely a splash, his looked like he’d had half a cup thrown all over him. Must have been a bit more than dregs, then.

Great. Now he was going to have to go all the way back to the flat to change. He couldn’t stay like this.

As if reading his mind, Naradi said, “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can find you something in the back.”

He followed her to a door labelled ‘Storeroom’ and inside. She turned on the lights and all he could see were piles and piles of boxes.

“So, you have clothes in here?”

“No, don’t be silly.” To his utter astonishment, Naradi began unbuttoning his shirt. “If you wanted me in the Snogroom, all you had to do was ask, handsome.”

He blinked stupidly at her, some part of his brain wondering where the rest of it had gone to. She had removed his shirt entirely before he had finished processing what she wanted, and once it had he opened his mouth to tell him he wasn’t interested—but it was muffled as she pressed her lips to it.

She wasn’t a bad snogger, if he had to be honest, and she wasn’t bad-looking either, for a Gusk (which to be fair were not the most attractive species in the universe). _But she’s not Rose_ , a voice spoke in his head, startling him into breaking contact.

Naradi looked surprised, but kept running her fingers down his bare chest, until—not wanting to hurt her feelings—he blurted out, “My companion will be wondering where I am.”

It worked. Perhaps a little too well. Naradi went stiff. “Your companion?” Her voice was suddenly ice-cold.

“Yeah. Rose, she works here. That’s why I’m here, I mean, ‘cause she’s here.”

He was babbling, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes narrowed. “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out!” She thrust his damp shirt into his hands, and not liking the look on her face, he put it on as fast as he could. He had only done up half the buttons when she pushed him out of the door and slammed it behind him.

As the Doctor walked away, bewildered and tucking his shirt in, he didn’t notice two pairs of eyes watching him.

He went outside for some air, standing outside the canopy and breathing in the rain-smell. _Women_. He would never understand them, not matter what the species.

He didn’t see it coming. He vaguely heard the automatic doors behind him, the next he knew he was seeing stars on the ground.


	32. Theoretically Platonic Companions

“OW! What the—” He felt a warm trickle slide down his face and put a hand to his stinging nose.

“Doctor!” Rose came into view above him. “Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” he said with a groan. “Ouch. What did you hit me for?”

“I didn’t.” Rose turned her head, and the Doctor followed her gaze.

There was quite a crowd now. Most of them looked curious, but Elsa’s face was set.

 _Women_. Now what had he done? He allowed Rose to help him to his feet and press a tissue into his hands.

“Is it broken?”

“No. Ow.” The Doctor tried to stop the bleeding while Rose shooed everyone away, except Elsa.

“Why’d you hit me?” he asked her.

“I think you know.”

“I really don’t. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough about you.”

The Doctor turned to Rose. “What have you been _saying_ to her?”

Rose started to say what sounded like ‘nothing’, but Elsa cut over her. “She’s told me about your dalliances—”

“My _what?_ ”

“Elsa—” Rose protested

“How can you betray your wife like this—”

“Elsa!”

“—and under her nose in public at that—Rose is the sweetest girl and you don’t deserve her!”

“ELSA!” Rose yelled, finally getting her attention. “I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding here. We’re not a couple.”

“But—” Elsa blushed, so that her fuchsia face looked crimson. “You said he was your companion—”

“Yeah, companion, not husband!”

Elsa frowned, looking more confused than ever. “But—”

“ _Oh_ ,” the Doctor said suddenly.

They both looked at him, Rose’s eyes narrowing. “ _Yes_ , Doctor?”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I’m sorry, the fault is mine. In some cultures, the word ‘companion’ is a bit more specific in its definition—to be more precise, synonymous with … spouse.”

“And you only just realised that now?”

“I’ve been to other places where it was the case, but I never realised it was the case here.”

“So you’re telling me, for the whole time we’ve been here, we’ve been telling everyone we’re …”

“Married?” he said. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Elsa was looking from one to the other. “You’re … really just friends?”

“Yes, just friends,” Rose said.

“Who share a flat,” the Doctor added. “In a completely platonic sense.”

Elsa burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Really.”

The Doctor grinned. “I suppose it is a bit funny—Ow.”

“Rose,” Elsa said, “why don’t you go and ask Zam for some ice?”

“Good idea. Back in a sec.”

Once his theoretically platonic companion had gone back inside, Elsa addressed him firmly. “Doctor.”

“Yeah?”

“What you did with Naradi—”

“I didn’t do anything! Not intentionally. I got coffee on me and she tricked me into the Snogroom. Wait—companion …” It hit him. “I said my companion, no wonder she got mad. She thought I meant wife.”

“Doctor. I saw the way Rose looked at you when you were with her. If I were you, I’d avoid all forms of flirting in future. And any woman who tries to get you into a cupboard,” she added as an afterthought.

“Elsa, Rose and I are just friends.”

“And if I believed you,” she said with a small smile, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

There was a long pause. “What do you think I should do?”

“You mean besides not flirting with anyone in front of her?” Elsa sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know you two well enough for that, obviously. Besides … I think I’ve interfered in other people’s relationships enough for one day.”

Rose returned with ice bundled in a cloth. “Got it. You two kissed and made up yet?”

The Doctor coughed awkwardly, which turned into an ‘ouch’ as Rose gently wiped blood off his nose.

“Sorry.”

“S’okay.” He let her finish cleaning him up, not missing Elsa’s knowing smile behind Rose’s back, before holding the ice to his nose. Oooh … that _was_ a good idea. “Thanks.”

“Let me treat you two to a meal out,” Elsa said. “To say sorry. Please.”

She wouldn’t take no for an answer, so while they were waiting for the Doctor’s nose to stop bleeding they made arrangements to meet at a traditional Yle restaurant not far from the supermarket that night.

“I think it’s stopped,” the Doctor said at last, gingerly feeling his nose. “Blimey, Elsa’s got a mean fist on her. Think she rivals your mother as top people I don’t want to piss off.”

“I should probably get back to work,” Rose said. “You’re sure you’re okay now?”

“Yeah. And I think I’ll head back to the flat now. And if you see Naradi, tell her we’re not … On second thoughts, don’t tell her anything, if she thinks we’re married it’ll stop her trying to get me in _there_ again.” He paused, looking Rose in the eye. “I swear, I didn’t know what she was up to.”

Her mouth twitched. “All right, I believe you. Maybe I’ll just let on that I know,” she said thoughtfully. “She might feel guilty enough to let me have her shift next week …”


	33. Dinner Talk

“What are we going to do?” Rose asked the Doctor seriously later. “I mean, I’ve been using the word ‘companion’ all the time.”

“Me too. That means everyone we know thinks we’re—thinks we’re husband and wife.”

There was an awkward silence. “Weird,” Rose said.

“I know.”

Another pause. “So what do we do?”

“Sleep on it, I reckon.”

They arrived at the restaurant. Rose was quite excited; so far she’d been mostly eating meals the Doctor cooked, Earth recipes from similar ingredients, although he had been trying new recipes lately. But since they’d been on a single, low salary they’d been trying not to be too adventurous with ingredients, so a lot of the things on the menu she had never had, or even heard of.

“Be adventurous, Rose,” the Doctor said when she raised this point.

There were four courses, judging by the menu; the first was a standard platter of finger foods to be shared with the whole table; then a starter, a main, and a dessert.

Rose flicked through the mains. “What’s kavry?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t if I were you,” the Doctor said quickly.

“Why not, you said be adventurous.”

“Not _that_ adventurous; kavry meat is not very digestible for humans. Check the disclaimer.”

“Oh.” Rose spotted the little red box beside the dish name that said ‘Not fit for human consumption’. “What about you? Could you have it?”

Elsa looked up from her menu in curiosity. “What? You’re not human?”

“Nope,” the Doctor said. “And I’m not certain on the kavry front, I’ve never had it before. Not going to try, either; I don’t fancy spending my evening in the hospital.”

Elsa was still staring. “That’s interesting—I’m sorry, I just, I’ve never met any other species that look like you.”

“There’s a few out there,” the Doctor said.

“I know that, I just wasn’t aware there were any in this part of the universe.”

“There’s not, to my knowledge. Just me.”

“And …” Rose felt very stupid doing this, but she had no choice but to ask. “What’s pazzo?”

“It’s naz meat. It’s sliced very thin, like ham, brushed with corn oil and baked with sweet spices.”

“Spoken like a true chef. Maybe that’s your calling,” Rose suggested.

“It’s a thought, though I don’t claim to be an expert on Yle food.”

“You could open up an English restaurant.”

“I’ll consider it.” He sounded serious, too.

“So what’s naz?”

“You remember those creatures we saw the other day …”

Rose cast her mind back. They were an odd, shaggy-haired animal with noses longer than their necks. “The nosy ones?”

“Yeah, those are naz. They’re related to sheep, the meat tastes probably closest to lamb.”

After the Doctor and Elsa between them had explained what all the dishes were, they ordered and the conversation went back. “So Doctor, may I ask what species you are?”

“Gallifreyan,” he answered promptly.

“I’ve … sorry, I’ve never heard of you.”

“Don’t worry, no-one here has,” Rose said.

“Did you live on Earth as well?”

“No,” he said slowly. “Though I visited a lot—that’s how we met. Then we travelled together, all over the universe—and when we lost my ship, we ended up here.”

Between them they told Elsa a little about their travels, and then the platter arrived. Rose had to try hard not to fill herself up on it before the first individual courses arrived. Some looked like a variation on sushi; vegetable pieces rolled up in a golden colour rice and what was probably seaweed in various shapes. There was also crab claws rolled in some kind of nut, sticks of spiced dough and a creamy orange dip, and marinated cubes of naz coated in lana seeds. Rose tried everything except the naz cubes, thinking the dressing smelled like old feet; the Doctor didn’t fancy them either, but Elsa was happy to finish his share.

The conversation turned to Elsa’s life, and she told them about her own travels to the local moons, where her sons were working on the lunar bases as a technician and a cleaner. Her voice resonated with pride as she spoke of them, and Rose had a sudden pang for her mother, but it passed.

The pazzo came with salad leaves and a small fruit, which looked like a lychee and tasted like a mild plum with a slight citrusy tang. It went surprisingly well with the meat, which was sweet and salty, perfectly balanced. Elsa told her it was called lumn.

The Doctor grinned as a dribble of lumn juice ran down Rose’s chin before she could prevent it, and handed her a napkin.


	34. Unjust Desserts

“Good?” The Doctor asked Rose.

“Very. Wouldn’t mind having some of these for pudding.”

“Lumn aren’t a pudding fruit,” Elsa said. “Though I don’t know why not. Doctor, how’s yours?”

He looked down at the chilli-stuffed crab. “Very good. Not as hot as I expected.”

Rose inwardly rolled her eyes; the Doctor was the kind of person who never found a dish spicy enough. Apparently Gallifreyan spices were so hot they were severely inedible for any other species, due to their dehydration properties. Rose had wondered if the Doctor had made this up to sound impressive, or to stop her stealing his stash of Gallifreyan peppers, but she didn’t want to take the risk and insisted he manually decontaminated the kitchen after he’d made himself a curry.

Though that was back in the day when they’d had the TARDIS, and he’d been able to grow a limited number of his own planet’s crops in there. The thought that he probably missed them too hadn’t occurred to Rose till now.

She forced her mind back to the present and they discussed places to go and things to do in the area. They told Elsa about their trip to the beach and had her laughing with the Doctor’s (highly exaggerated) blow-by-blow account of their sandcastle contest.

Rose’s main was ffyorn stew, made with jujo and fish. Although jujo looked and had the texture of duck, it tasted more like mushroom. The combination was delicious.

“Could you make this at home, Doctor?” she asked quite eagerly.

He dipped his own spoon in hers and tasted the sauce. “Hmm. Tomato, cream, accabi, goldspice … I could have a go, certainly.”

“Do you cook much, Doctor?”

“I have to,” he said seriously. “Rose is a hazard in the kitchen. She’s even burnt cornflakes before.”

Rose snorted. “Oh, and that’s not out of context _at all_. I was making cornflake cupcakes for my cousin’s birthday, you moron.”

“You still don’t need to bake them.”

“Well no-one told _me_ that, they’re _cakes_ aren’t they?”

“Erm,” Elsa said, “what are cornflakes?”

The conversation was turned from food, for which Rose was grateful and resolved to give the Doctor a good slap later. He seemed to be seriously considering Rose’s suggestion about opening a restaurant, and was quizzing Elsa on what she knew about starting a business in Cogodia.

“I don’t know much about the food industry,” she said. “Sorry. But I know starting a business right now, any business, is a big risk.”

“Tell us something new,” Rose muttered.

“Ah, well,” the Doctor said with a little sigh. “It’s something to consider, anyway.”

“You could become a cook for a rich English household.”

He sniffed. “Hmph. Doesn’t really appeal.”

“So I take it the job hunting isn’t going very well,” Elsa said.

The Doctor filled her in, and conversation paused as dessert arrived. Rose looked at hers curiously. It looked like ice cream, and had the same texture, but it was warm instead of cold.

“I’ve tried making this before,” Elsa said. “You blend cooked negel—that’s a plant which jellifies when it’s cooked—and hot naz milk together with laya and mixed fruit. It’s actually quite a skill, I never quite mastered it—”

Rose dropped her spoon as her throat and mouth began to burn. For a split second she wondered if it was how the dish worked, like the opposite of a brain freeze; but it was painful, and she suddenly felt sick, and her throat was swelling up—she couldn’t breathe—her vision went fuzzy and she felt, as if from a distance, herself fall off her chair to the floor.

-

“ROSE!”

It looked like she’d passed out; the Doctor knelt down beside her, and realised immediately what was wrong. Someone touched his shoulder and he heard Elsa’s voice. “Doctor, the hospital’s just round the corner.”

He only nodded in response, gathering Rose in his arms and pushing his way through the curious crowd outside, then sprinting to the large, brightly-lit building in the next street with Elsa right behind.


	35. Im-Patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I have the chapters, I just keep forgetting to update ...

The Doctor raced into the Emergency Department. Elsa, who had caught up and overtaken due to not having someone to carry, went to the desk. The Doctor started to follow, but she turned round as he reached her and said, “Waiting Room Two.”

He hated waiting rooms, and this one was packed. A kindly-looking man with a broken arm gave up his seat for the Doctor to set Rose down on it. He thanked him, trying not to panic—especially once he looked around at the other waiting patients, and saw that all of them were humans.

That didn’t bode well. Some of them, like Rose, were unconscious.

“Elsa, stay with Rose a minute,” he said. “I need to have a word with Reception.”

There weren’t many humans around at all, the Doctor surmised as he approached the desk again. None that he could see, apart from in the waiting-room.

“Excuse me,” he said.

“Waiting Room Two,” the receptionist said after barely glancing at him.

“I’ve just _come_ from there. I want to know why it looks like all the human patients in this entire hospital are packed inside.”

“I’m afraid we’re short-staffed, sir; please would you return to the waiting room until you’re called.”

“And when will that be?”

“With any luck, within a couple of hours. It depends on the other pat—”

“A couple of _hours?_ ” The Doctor gaped. “This is ridiculous! Rose has had an allergic reaction; she needs treatment _now!_ ”

“I’m sorry, we only have three doctors qualified in human medicine—”

“ _Three!_ ”

“And one is unavailable today; someone will be with you as soon as pos—”

“Well I’m a doctor,” he said, beginning to dig around in his pockets for the psychic paper. “If I show you my credentials, can you point me to the necessary department?”

-

It took some sweet-talking, but finally the Doctor was granted use of the facilities to treat Rose himself. He figured they probably only agreed to avoid a lawsuit.

Once she was stable and sleeping, he took a breather, and went to find Elsa.

She jumped up as he approached her. “Rose is going to be fine.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Elsa sighed.

The Doctor nodded, a lump in his throat. “Excuse me, Elsa.”

Rather than heading back to the ward, he calmly located the Gents, locked himself in a cubicle and slumped against the door.

His hands, steady all the while he had been working, were now shaking at an alarming rate. His legs felt wobbly and he sat down on the toilet lid, taking deep breaths and trying to steady himself.

That had been close. That had been very close. He’d nearly lost Rose plenty of times—she certainly was jeopardy friendly—but this time was different; this time it was something normal, everyday which nearly killed her. And normal everyday was their lives now.

But what shook him the most was the terror of _after_. If he’d lost Rose … The Doctor swallowed hard, his throat painful, and realised he had tears streaming down his face. What would he have done? Rose was his life, his anchor, his _everything_. She was all he had left, the only reason he was putting up with this maddening, frustratingly _domestic_ life.

He’d lose her eventually. He knew that. But he’d blocked the thought from his mind, determined to never contemplate it. Here and now, she was by his side, and the very thought of even a day without her made him feel sick.

The Doctor stayed in the loo a long time, slowly calming himself down, until he felt ready to face the world. He checked he was still alone, ventured out from the cubicle and splashed water on his face before lifting his head high, plastering a smile on his face and heading back to Rose’s ward.


	36. Good News Intriplicate

Rose felt rather groggy when she woke up. As her brain began slowly processing, she realised she couldn’t be at the flat. This didn’t feel like their bed. Plus there were noises all around her, though they sounded weirdly muffled.

She didn’t want to open her eyes, or wake up. Sleep had been nice. She wanted to go off again …

Wait, who was that holding her hand? The answer came to her almost at once—the Doctor. She could tell; she’d held his hand enough times to be able to recognise it blind.

There was a rattling of curtains, and an unfamiliar voice spoke. “Dr Tyler? How’s your wife doing?”

We’re not married, Rose thought, but it was too much effort to try and say it out loud.

The Doctor didn’t correct the speaker. “Much better, thank you.” He paused slightly. “You couldn’t get her some food, could you? I think she’s waking up. No naz milk.”

“Of course.” The curtains rattled again.

“Rose?” the Doctor said softly. “Are you awake?”

“Slightly,” Rose murmured, trying to open her eyes and wincing at the whiteness everywhere. “What’s going on?”

“You’re in hospital. Don’t panic,” he added quickly, sensing her alarm. He looked like he was about to say something else, but the curtains opened. Rose glimpsed rows of beds outside.

The person who’d opened them, dressed in a uniform that could have been a nurse’s, was carrying a tray. She smiled upon seeing Rose.

“Ah, you are awake.” She smiled at both of them and handed Rose the tray. “I’ll leave you and your companion alone, Dr Tyler.”

“Thank you, Sten.”

Once she’d gone again, Rose raised her eyebrows at the Doctor. “I thought we weren’t going to use that word anymore?”

“Actually, we didn’t get a chance to discuss it—and I had to tell the hospital you were my wife because there was no way in the universe they were going to let me treat you otherwise,” he said. It wasn’t until then Rose realised he was wearing a white doctor’s coat. “So, breakfast?”

Rose looked down at the tray. She didn’t recognise any of the foods on it, and hesitated, memories of the meal coming back.

“It’s fine,” the Doctor said in a gentle voice. “I promise none of these are going to make you collapse.”

She slowly picked up a spoon. The plate was one of those plastic trays divided into sections. The largest held what looked like Angel Delight … but it was green. One of the two smaller sections held an unfamiliar kind of sausage, and the other, red jelly.

“Don’t tell me,” Rose said as the Doctor opened his mouth. “I’m not sure I want to know what they are.” He smiled as she began eating. The food was a far cry from the meal last night, but she had to admit, she had tasted worse.

“So,” the Doctor said. “Do you want the good news, the good news, or the good news?”

“The good news please.”

“Which one?”

“Doctor!”

“Oh, okay. The first good news is, you’re gonna be fine. Give it a couple of hours, you’ll be able to come back to the flat. The second good news is, you’re allergic to naz milk.”

“How is that good news?”

“I was afraid it was going to be the laya; Ylies put that stuff in everything, it would have been quite difficult to have to avoid. Whereas naz milk is easy to.”

“Oh, good. And the third good news?”

“I’ve got a job!”


	37. Royal Rose

The Doctor exhaled deeply as he reached the top of the stairs in their block.

“Tired out?” Rose said with a grin.

“Bit,” he puffed. “I need to put you down a sec.”

He gently lowered her onto the floor outside their door and proceeded to fumble with the keys.

“You didn’t have to carry me all the way from the bus stop, you know,” Rose said, sounding amused.

“Your doctor prescribed plenty of rest.”

“Do I need to remind you that you’re my Doctor?”

“Don’t be silly,” the Doctor said. The door opened and he lifted Rose in his arms again. “Anyway, till you’re fully recovered, you, Rose, are a princess—”

“Ooh!”

“—and I your loyal subject, here to wait on you hand and foot,” the Doctor finished, depositing her on the bed.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Good. So stop complaining and enjoy it. Is there anything I can get you?”

Rose lay back on the bed, stretching. “A telly wouldn’t go amiss. How come we haven’t got one yet?”

“Because we didn’t have the money, because we didn’t think of it, because we just haven’t got round to it. One of those.” The Doctor pulled off his coat and dropped it on the back of one of the chairs. “I can look into getting one.”

“Please do,” Rose said.

“Well, in the meantime … can I tempt you with a book, something to drink, something to eat?”

“Some food, and a book, please.”

Rose snuggled down under the covers while the Doctor moved about the flat. She felt perfectly all right, really, but she wasn’t one to complain when the Doctor was in the mood for spoiling her. “So when do you start work?”

“Once I’m satisfied you’re back to normal.” She heard him walk over to the bed. “Rose, that’s my side.”

She knew that. She wasn’t about to tell him that she was nuzzling into his pillow purposefully, in order to inhale his Doctor scent. So she feigned tiredness. “You put me here. Not moving.”

It didn’t have quite the desired effect. The Doctor pulled the covers down and rolled her over onto her side of the bed, before pulling them up again. “Better?”

“Much,” she lied grumpily.

“Here.” He handed her a book, and a plate with a sandwich on. “Anything else before I go out to secure us a television?”

“Nope, that’s it,” Rose said. “You may leave my presence, loyal subject.”

The Doctor, to her great surprise and pleasure, gently kissed her forehead and did a mock bow. “Then I’ll be back soon.”

-

When the Doctor returned, Rose was asleep, the sandwich half-eaten. He rescued the plate, which was in danger of disappearing in the quilt, set up the television, and then began working on the communicator.

Rose woke up late afternoon, when the Doctor was starting to think about dinner.

He had planned to do chicken casserole the previous evening, before they had been invited out to eat. It was probably a bit late to start one now.

“Hi,” he said as Rose opened her eyes. “Did you have a nice sleep?”

“Mm. What’s for dinner?”

The Doctor chuckled. “Chicken.”

“What sort?”

“Improvised,” the Doctor said.

“You mean you don’t know.”

“Well, I was somewhat distracted by my companion going to hospital,” he retorted. “Perhaps you missed it.”

Rose giggled. “Well, whatever you’re doing, please hurry up, I’m famished.”

The Doctor shook his head, wondering how she could be so hungry after doing nothing all day. “All right, all right.”

He ended up frying the chicken and some vegetables with a few spices thrown in, half an ear on the television programme Rose was watching. Some game show. He’d gone off all game and reality shows since his short stint in Big Brother, but Rose still liked them—why, he wasn’t sure. She’d obviously worked out the rules quite quickly, because she kept shouting instructions at the participants.

When the Doctor finished cooking, he dished up, gave Rose hers and slipped into the bed beside her. She said nothing, but leaned against him as they both ate. The Doctor looked down at her—she looked nothing if not content to just sit with him. All thoughts of changing the channel disappeared.

All right. For Rose, he’d give this game show thing a go.


	38. Confused in Transit

The Doctor and Rose were woken the next morning by someone at the door.

“Is that our first visitor?” Rose said, rubbing her eyes, as the Doctor got out of bed and pulled on his dressing-gown.

“I believe so.” He threw her hers. “Let’s see what they want.”

He opened the door to see a Llosphenarian in official-looking uniform holding a clipboard. “Good morning,” the visitor said briskly. “Doctor Tyler?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said. Rose, in her own dressing-gown, appeared beside him.

“I’m Racsi from Plugz Electronicz. I understand you subscribed to our Basic Package yesterday.”

“If you’re trying to sell us an upgrade—” Rose began, sounding annoyed, but Racsi shook his head quickly.

“No, no, no. And I’m not conducting a customer survey either. No, I’m delivering a replacement set.” He gestured downwards, at a cardboard box. “We’ve had to replace a batch recently and we discovered you took one of the faulty ones by mistake. And since Plugz Electronicz cares about customer satisfaction, I’ve come to bring the working one to you. We don’t sit and wait for the customer to complain.” He gave a forced, toothy grin.

“We haven’t noticed anything wrong with it,” the Doctor said.

“Channels Eight through to Seventeen aren’t working in the faulty ones,” Racsi said. “You can try if you want to make sure.”

Rose went over to the television, turned it on and began channel-hopping. “He’s right,” she said. “There’s just fuzz.”

“All right, then,” the Doctor said. “Do you want the faulty one back?”

“Yes, please. Could I also see your ID? I’m not supposed to leave a set without confirming identity first.”

“Yeah. Rose,” the Doctor said, “could you pass me my ID?”

After a moment she came back to the doorway and handed him the psychic paper, which he flashed at Racsi. “All right?”

“Yes, excellent. If you could just sign here, then, and I’ll swap your sets over.”

The Doctor kept an eye on Racsi while he worked, but he seemed genuine. The installation only took a few minutes and then the Plugz worker made tracks.

“Sorry to disturb you so early,” he added, glancing at their dressing-gowns. “I would have come later, myself, but my boss insisted—doesn’t like getting customer complaints. Anyway … good day to you both, Dr Tyler, Mrs Tyler.”

“Oh, we’re not ...” Rose began, but he was already out of earshot.

The Doctor took a quick peek at the psychic paper suspiciously, just in time to see the words _Dr and Mrs Tyler_ disappear.

That was a new one. Why had it done that?

He quickly pocketed it before Rose could spot him staring at it and wonder why. If the psychic paper had been telling people they were married—that could explain a lot. Although he still couldn’t work out what he could have directed at it that got confused in transit. It was smarter than to get confused just from their same surnames.

It couldn’t be that somewhere in the Doctor’s subconscious had actually made this happen? He would never admit aloud that he wanted Rose in that way, but ... well, maybe this was the psychic paper’s way of giving him a kick in the backside.

“Ha,” Rose said, oblivious to his internal confusion. “All the channels are working. Channel Twelve looks interesting.”

It was her day off work, and whilst she seemed to be back to normal, the Doctor couldn’t quite bring himself to leave her yet. He made breakfast and they curled up together to watch for a while, before a really bad soap started and they turned it off.


End file.
